#light cavalry x reader

[erisawrites]

How Windbreaker men would be if they dated women like them

Context: A refresher from the generic trope of grumpy guy x sunshine girl where their lovers share the same traits and personalities as them, causing to bring out something besides their usual behaviour

Pairing: WB men x f!reader

Owen Knight

Wc: 1046 words

Note : 10 reblogs for Vinny version!

M A S T E R L I S T

It's not a surprise the most popular boy's love life had everyone's binoculars glued onto it. And by everyone, this also spanned onto the many foreign fan bases that Light Cavalry's charisma had swooned the hearts of many.

It was a ridiculously large amount, even more ridiculous were those scoops of what sort of woman's heart he captured, a piece at the epicenter of gossip following a rare paparazzi shot of him blushing behind a bouquet of roses.

That triggered another fresh wave of rumors, the intel and scoops almost becoming unbearable for the other members, who were forced to fend off all sorts of creeps in his absence, each revealing themselves as his ‘secret lover’ who ‘truly knew everything about him’.

Though if these self-proclaimed lovers had even an inkling of their idol, they would have realized from the blushing photograph that he hadn't captured a heart, but rather his was captured first.

“Did you like the roses I sent you?”

She sent more than roses, and Owen was grateful she sent over his chauffeur before he collapsed on the zebra crossing, “They're nice.”,he grinned, stifling his gushing for a moment, “Though I've seen better in London.”

“So should I send over a plane ticket next?”,the man rolled his eyes in mock annoyance.

“You spoil me too much, remember I'm the man in this relationship?”

“Remember you're my man in this relationship?”,he could pick up that awful smirk in her voice, “I haven't even paid back half of what you've done for me.”

“That's because they're not supposed to be paid for.”,his voice stressed, though joy was bouncing in his eyes as he gazed out the window, “You're supposed to keep quiet and enjoy them. My money looks better on you.”

“Same over here! Money never bought me happiness unless it was spent on you.”,hearing her voice constricted his heart. Part of him urged to remind her that she didn’t need to spend anything, while the other reminded him that her actions were no different from his. Unsurprisingly, the two had found someone who’s love language is the exact same as the other.

“If I was given all the money in the world.”,he dropped the bouquet onto his lap, his forehead pressed against the cool window glass. Only moments ago, the streets were bathed in the warm sunlight, illuminating the dreary shops and pavement into a square of liveliness. The Sun seemed to take a momentary break now, as thick clouds coalesced overhead, casting shadows over his tanned cheeks. “I’d spent all of it on bringing you back.”

Her soft sigh was like music to his ears, a melody so rejuvenating that he yearned to hear it in real life, “If it were up to me, I’d walk over next block and host the match in their hotel reception itself. But oh well.”

“Nonsense, your championship’s the main priority here,”,he reaffirmed, taking a mental note to free up his schedule to watch her live matches, “I’m getting a new TV soon, so make sure to beat these semis. Then,I have something interesting to show off on Live Feed.”

“You and your rotten spoiled tendencies…”,she huffed, and he could hear the eye roll in her voice, “And here I thought my beloved would bless me with words of encouragements.”

“Bring the cup home so I can brag about you.”

“I’ll bring home your body.”

“Bridal style, please!”,he crossed his legs in mock interest, “I don’t mind being carried in your arms, you too need something to brag about.”

“Man, I forget how insufferable you are…”

“You also forget how deeply in love I am with you, to the point only your presence makes me content.”

Silence elapsed in the call, with each person biting back smiles that fought to stretch wide across their faces, “Whe-Where are you headed?”

“What’s gotten you shy all of the sudden?”,he grinned, before frowning as he looked through the front window, “And how am I supposed to know? Didn’t you book this ride for…for….”

Static noises filled the call, but this didn’t register in his mind as he was too occupied with what’s before him, something so bizarre, so unimaginable, that it had his heart swelling in elation.

He stumbled out of the car before the frightened chauffeur could react, his feet taking off instantly, kicking up sand as he raced towards the beach’s shoreline, where the small silhouette of a woman was highlighted by the sunset.

“Hm? It seems you’ve cut my call.”,she swiveled around as she heard footsteps, her phone pressed against her ear, right next to smiling lips, “Or it seems I have faster connection.”

“Y/N!”,the man shrieked joyously, locking his arms around her waist as he embraced her deeply. The woman burrowed her face in his shoulders as he spun her around, the woman's laughter mixing with the strong winds, “Oh, my baby, you came!”

“Yes I did, love.”,she cupped his cheeks, eyes swirling with deep affection and admiration, “I came. For you.”

“For…me?”,his smile slowly morphed into confusion, “But what about the finals?”

“Let’s just say…”,her fingers fiddled with her lanyard that he overlooked, with a bold print stamped at the bottom of the card reading ‘FINALISTS’, ”They agreed to give away the cup at the homes of the final groups. You can thank my charisma for that.”

“I can’t believe it!”,he dropped her gently, hands never leaving her waist, “You’re gonna do your finals here? Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you!”

“Who isn’t?”,she smirked, lifting her shoulders, “I got a long list of admirers everywhere I go!”

“A long list of admirers,”,Owen brought their faces closer, his forehead pressing against her soft skin, “Where I’m standing at the front.”

The nonchalant coolness left her face, replaced with a lovestruck blush that widened her eyes in admiration, “More like fought his way to the front!”

“Brutally.”,he added, eyes squinting in an innocent smile

Though she forever deflects his smooth advances with her playfulness, she failed to deflect his eyes off her abashed smile and reddened cheeks, and she had the whole world's admiration at her feet, yet only swells with pride upon receiving his.

[shintaru]

Say my name | Owen Knight

KINKTOBER m.list ♡ windbreaker taglist

Warnings: Aftercare, Owen, lingerie, creampie, riding, cowgirl, missionary, praises, not proof read, unprotected sex, amateur smut writer, implied cunnlingus.

You had bought some lingerie with Noah when you both went shopping in Korea. Having yet to try it on you decided to since your boyfriend went to pick up some food. You shut your shared bedroom door just in case he comes home early.

Trying on the three-piece set you look at yourself in the mirror. Deciding it’s missing something you pull out a pair of garters and attach them to the mini skirt. You grab some stockings to match.

Making small adjustments to the skirt placing it high on your hips so the lace panties can be seen more. You take another look in the mirror and think that the stockings and garters pull the look together.

The set is a light blue mini skirt, with matching lace undergarments. You thought it would be funny to take a picture to tease Owen. Originally you were too shy to wear lingerie in front of him. But after seeing how you looked in the set you wanted to tease him a little.

Deciding to take a mirror selfie from the back to show off the mini skirt you send it to Owen waiting for a response. You don’t get a response yet he’s opened it. You begin to worry if you made the wrong decision by sending him the picture.

You’re stuck in what seems like a loop of typing and erasing your sentences not knowing what to say. You hear the front door slam and what sounds like a bag and keys being tossed onto the counter before Owen rushes into your shared bedroom.

“What were you thinking sending me something like that in public?” he shouts. You don’t know what to say so you stay silent thinking he’s mad “Someone could have seen and I would have had to kill them” he tells you making you laugh realizing he’s just being over protective.

A red blush tint starts growing on his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you in the lingerie. He’s at a loss for words. You walk over to him. Pulling him closer to you by his hips “do you want to take it off of me?” You ask. He wastes no time putting his hands on you practically ripping your bra off.

“Owen what the fuck! I just bought these” you say. “I’ll buy you as many new pairs as you want” he replies. Picking you up by your waist he carries you over to the bed laying you down on your back.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your jawline to your neck along your stomach down to your lower abdomen. Lifting your thighs, he takes the waistband of your lace panties in his teeth pulling them down as far as he can get before coming back up and setting your legs down on his shoulder. You gasp at the position you’re in, you’re nervous but you trust Owen.

Noticing that you’re nervous Owen says “Don’t be shy baby let me eat you out, I’ve been dying to taste you” You spread your legs allowing him to hold your thighs even further apart. He starts slowly by leaving a trail of soft wet kisses down your inner thigh.

He glides his tongue across your folds tasting you using his thumb he softly rubs circles against your clit making you moan out. Pulling on his blond hair you tell him “Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!” not being able to have any patience for what’s to come. Owen pulls away from your dripping core, licking your arousal from his lips planting a soft kiss against your lips. “I need you now” you say.

He lifts you off the bed sitting down pulling you onto his lap. “We need a condom” he says wrapping your arms around him you tell him “I want you to cum inside me” his already pale face seems to lose all its color with your comment. “You’ll be the death of me” he says pulling his pants and underwear off.

Helping you raise your hips he lines his tip up with your entrance rubbing it against your folds and coating it in your slick. You grip his shoulders tightly “mhm, Owen” you moan.

“Fuck say my name again, I love hearing your voice” he says. His grip tightens on your hips. “Owen, ah” you moan out as he slides his tip into you. He attaches his lips to yours pulling you deep into the kiss by your lower back. He lets you take him slowly. “Take your time” he says pulling away from the kiss. Once he’s in you start bouncing on his cock. You’re both a moaning mess. “You feel so good, you’re taking me so well” Owen praises you.

Your legs begin to shake growing tired from the pace. Owen grabs your hips and helps you ride him. “I’m close” you moan while grinding against him. “Cum for me” he says. You clench around him moaning his name as your orgasm washes over you. He continues thrusting into you, coming in to you soon after.

After you both calm down from your highs you push him down on the bed taking his shirt off placing your hands on his chest lifting your hips stopping when just the tip is inside feeling and rocking yourself back down on him. He grips your hips tightly thrusting into you trying to meet your pace. You can feel his cock twitching inside you letting you know he’s close.

You continue riding him feeling yourself becoming closer to your own release. He thrusts into you one last time before finally coming into you. He pulls out allowing his cum to seep out of you dripping down his cock. “Fuck, I could get use to the sight of that” he says while flipping you both over, laying you on your back.

“Put your leg over my shoulder” he says. You put your leg over his shoulder and he holds your other around his waist thrusting into you. “Owen, don’t stop I’m so close” you moan. “I love the way you moan my name” He responds. He leans down to kiss you taking your hand in his. You both cum together, Owen continues thrusting into you not letting up on his pace.

“Owen, it’s too- much” you try pleading with him. “We’re not done yet going to fuck my cum into your pretty hole” he responds. After Owen is finally satisfied he draws a warm bath for the both of you letting you get in first while he throws the sheets in the wash. After starting the washer Owen joins you in the bath. “Let me help you clean up” he says.

I need a Owen Knight in my life

Dedicated to @rossesnd @catsrkool

[dorayakichan]

you’re one of the first wb writers that write for the girls & im so glad 😭 they deserve sm 🫶 may I req dating hcs w kaneshiro, shelly & noah? thank you!

Windbreaker characters: Dating headcanon

Pairing: Kaneshiro, Shelly and Noah x gn!reader

Fluff

Kaneshiro

First of you should go and start thanking the Heavens up above for giving you the possibility to date such a goddess. Like have you seen that girl? She is a hell of a fine woman, too fine like I want to be the ground she steps on, kind of fine. (excuse my inability to control my inner simp from showing. I can’t bear keeping my love for her to myself. Let us continue then….)

Kaneshiro might appear as cold and unapproachable to most, but that is not the case for you, her lover. She is always soft, maybe even way too soft with you. No matter what you do, say, or act she is always going to give in to you. Maybe because she finds you cute. But I mean that was the whole reason this woman even decided to give you the time of day in the first place because you are cute. So that is to be expected. 

She is gentle and mature but extremely harsh, having been through so many hardships all of those years it is obvious it has made her that way. Although she is extremely kind only to you when needed, there are moments when she will bluntly tell you if what you are doing, thinking, or saying is in her opinion wrong. But that is also what you like about her. Her bluntness. Her way of speaking the truth when it needs to be said.

Despite her calm exterior, you can notice how her pupils expand a little when her eyes fall on your smiling face or how her fingers linger a little longer on your face after sharing a kiss. 

You can see a shift in her energy everytime you both go on dates, the excitement that only you can notice. How she adores it the most when you take her to a theme park, although there are no words spoken you notice everything, the rides she likes, the ones she doesn’t, when she wants to eat, and when she doesn’t. 

These gestures of yours are never left unnoticed by her. She appreciates and loves it so much and that is also why she never mentions it, hoping you don’t understand that she has already caught you and that you won’t stop acting that way. 

When it comes to your intimate moments well this woman is the leader inside and outside the bedroom and well you are fine with that. The way she kisses and holds you is so sweet and warm that you can notice how much she cares and wants you by her side. 

There are times when her hugs are stronger and more profound than usual, that’s because she feels afraid, afraid to lose another important person in her life. If only you could reassure her that you will never leave her side and nothing bad will happen to you. So instead you kiss her and tell her that it will be fine. Hoping that fate is on the same page as you.

Shelly

Well if you are dating Shelly good luck surviving through Owen's constant interruptions of every date or time alone you have together, her father’s constant death threats, and her grandfather’s glaring stares every time you cross paths. 

Yes, you will be having a hard time dating this woman. But let’s accept it she had a hard time chasing you too. It was her persistence and care that made you fall so hard for her. Now it’s time for you to work hard and get her family to accept your relationship. 

Shelly can comfort and help you like no other. She listens, understands, and knows just the right words to say so she can help you go through even the darkest of times. She is always there, reaching her hand out to you while smiling brightly, making you able to see that there is more to this world than just hardships and sadness. Her love and care for you is unconditional. 

That doesn’t mean that she is strong and doesn’t need someone to be there for her too. So as much as she cares and gives to you, you should try your best to give back to her. 

Shelly is the jealous type. And she will admit it, maybe not in an overbearing kind of way but in more of a calm one in the beginning. She will act in ways to make you see that she is jealous and if you don’t notice she will ask you about the other person and what you think of them. 

She knows you love her and care for her but she will have her moments of insecurity where she will feel like you don’t care anymore about her and in those moments you will need to reassure her that you only love her and that she is the only one for you.

Shelly will be the one suggesting to go on dates and even deciding where and when. As she knows your food preferences, sometimes she will try to adjust to that so you can also enjoy your favorite kind of food. Because she loves you so much, if you ask her to try it even if she hates it she will try it for you.

One thing you need to know is that she is extremely affectionate and her love language is touch, so don’t be surprised when she holds your hand out of nowhere or when she grabs onto your arm putting her head on your shoulder while telling you how much she wants to go somewhere only with you where you both can enjoy some time together in each-others presence away from everything.

Shelly although she doesn’t seem like it, she is shy about kissing you, but that changes only if you are shyer than her. Then she knows she has to take the lead so she leans to kiss you first whenever the chance arises. 

If you are the one to kiss her first, that will make this girl's whole day. You initiating any kind of intimate contact will make her brain and heart explode from happiness, surprise, and excitement. Yep, she is starved for your love as she is always the one to show it first so you better do justice to our girl Shelly and shower her with your love and affection.

Noah

Dating Noah feels like dating a kid with tantrums and an extremely colorful vocabulary. Let’s accept it though you find it funny and are always trying to keep your laugh when she is in that kind of mood. You know that it’s all an act to keep her true kind hearted self from showing. 

She doesn’t want to seem weak even in a relationship with you so although less than with other people she still acts tough. Yet you wish she wouldn’t try so hard to hide her true self from you. You came to terms with the fact that that’s how she feels the most comfortable so you just accept it now. There are times when you also purposely tease her, just to see her throwing those cute tantrums of hers. 

By the way, you are the only one who thinks her angry temper is cute no one else does, and once when you mentioned this to Harry and Owen they looked at you as if you had gone mad. Yep, no one gets it. Because you are the one dating her, and that means that even if very slightly she won’t be as mean and angry at you as she is to other people.

You are also the only person who can stop her from throwing tantrums and that is whenever you kiss her, hug her, say something sweet and unexpected to her, or cook food for her. Then when you do one of these things she will not only quiet down but she will be more affectionate towards you. That’s right you are the only one who knows how to handle Noah and the only one allowed to act with her like that.

Deep down Noah has a fragile heart and you know that more than anyone else as you have seen her break down once after you both fought and you suggested breaking up. After that day you have been more careful with your words, and you’re kinder and even calmer because now you know.

Noah loves it when you take her on dates, especially dates that involve food. Despite the fact that she doesn’t say it, she loves how sometimes you share your food with her, how you go and buy a bunch of all the things she likes, and how you even feed her when she is too immersed in her phone. 

She, like Shelly, is also extremely shy about kissing and intimate moments. A great opportunity for you to tease her to your heart's content, which you never miss. Seeing her blushy state and then getting a cute glare from her makes you want to kiss her even more and well we know how it all ends up after that…..

[tonycries]

Haunting You - G.S.

Synopsis. A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, king! Gojo, vampire AU, he’s actually ÍNSANE, royalty AU, arranged marriages, creampíes, breéding, fated mátes, FÉRAL down bad Gojo, mentions of bIood and kílling, bíting, óral (fem receiving), spítting, marks (a LOT), fíngering, pórn with plot tbh, overstím, ínnapropriate use of powers, jealous! Gojo, slight inspiration from Persephone and Hades, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 15.8k (HUH???)

A/N. Was listening to Haunted by Beyoncé, and my mind went “ooo vampires.” Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

In all your years being carefully primed to take over the throne, there have only been two rules you were raised under:

You live by the crown, and you will die by the crown. No matter what. 

To stop the vampires - if your father, the king, fails to contain the bloody trail of killings before his own inevitable death, you have to. Or, more according to those tedious meetings with the table of elders, your husband will have to.

And it seems as if they were well and fully intent on enforcing that last rule as of late - with sharply increasing numbers of attacks on your local towns, the public was growing restless - and so was the royal court. 

You weren’t doing any better either - but for a wholly different reason.  

Maybe it was paranoia, but these days, you found yourself constantly catching a flash of crystal blue in the corner of your eye. Or hearing a sweet, sweet whisper in your ear deep at night. Maybe even a soft run of fingers down your spine as you were readied for yet another ball - hands much too large to be any of your ladies-in-waiting.

Like something was watching. 

Waiting. 

“And then I- your highness, are you listening?”

That familiar, grating voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you’re gasping in embarrassment as you turn back to the prattling man in front of you. 

“My apologies, Lord Naoya.” you smile tightly, desperate to finish up yet another conversation about his latest cavalry expeditions. Nodding dismissively, “Just tired, please continue with your ah- wonderful tales.”

But of course, when he starts right back from the very beginning to “cover the key points you missed”, your stomach turns when you realize that you won’t be escaping any time soon. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

God, future suitors your ass. You’d been taught that there’s no such company as “bad company” when you’re an heir to a kingdom, but this has been the fourth royal ball this month - and the biggest one yet. The fourth night you had to listen to another uptight lord show off his sparse battle medals, or another elder snide about how you’d be useless against the dangers of vampires.

You knew it was likely some coping mechanism with the grim deaths this week, but surely the nobles were tired of all this silly dancing? You sure were. 

Gauzy dress just a bit too tight, sighs just a bit too loud than was permitted for the princess, you let your gaze wander across the brilliant ballroom. Those intricate gowns, the huge reflective wall, those little pastries you really wish you could walk away from this conversation and-

Blue. 

Crystal blue.

“Wait! Did you see-” you startle, and it disappears as fast as it appeared. Your heavy skirts sway as you whirl around to uselessly track that odd burst of color, “Did you see that?”

“I know!” Naoya gasps, making you turn your head in excitement. “The light reflects off my medal so gorgeously! Oh, and this one-”

Dammit. 

All through your life, it was this same color that’d been flitting occasionally through your vision, now haunting you almost every day.

You didn’t know where to look to find that familiar blue again - and you didn’t want to stand here waiting to find out. At the very least, your ears have definitely been assaulted with enough talk about horses and how “absolutely enormous” Lord Naoya’s weaponry at the Zenin Estate was.

Compensating, you muse.

The thought helps you plaster on a grin to your face, humming in a saccharine-sweet tone, “It pains me to cut through, my lord.” It really didn’t. “And I’d love to chat more later, but I think I hear my lady-in-waiting calling for me.”

He sputters, breathing out a few profanities under his breath that you catch. An arm raising as if to keep you in place, “Now, wait a minute-”

You’re angling your body expertly to make your dash. Batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, “Oh? What was that?” you cup your ear. “I hear her again- I really do apologize, but feel free to recount your valiant um- fairy tales in a letter.”

“But your father-”

Not waiting to hear the rest of his response, you barely even bother with a polite curtsy before determinedly weaving your way through the stuffy ballroom. Nodding by the nobles greeting you, waving past the throng of young lords that wanted to reel you into more conversation. Your satiny feet taking you anywhere but here - anywhere but where you could feel the still, heavy gaze of something burning into your back as you escaped. 

You just prayed that it was only a miffed Naoya and nothing else.

It was around this time that the orchestra struck up another upbeat waltz, and with most people pairing off on the dance floor, barely anyone noticed you tip-toeing out of the ballroom. 

“God-” you’re letting out a sigh of relief when you reach the long hallway, rubbing at your throbbing temples. “The next ball they host, m’gonna conveniently disappear, I swear.”

You didn’t care enough for what matchmaking would happen in the future anyway, no matter what the elders may tell you. 

Your ballgown swishes with every urgent step through the quiet, dimly-lit corridors. Maybe a bit too quiet. 

Strange. You knew that not many nobles would be wandering around the palace during a ball but, surely you can’t be the only one here? Where were the guards?

Just then, a soft winter breeze puffs against your left ear - and you inhale sharply. “Wha- hello?” you shudder, gaze darting around. “Anyone there?” But when only silence greets you, you’re struck with the sudden thought that the windows along the hallway were closed. 

Where did the wind come from?

The realization has you taut with goosebumps pricking at your skin, your pace increasing ever-so-slightly. Gulping, you round the corner quickly, making a beeline for the closest haven you could find - the library.

Ducking past the towering stone archway, you hastily slam the door closed. It takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness inside. With silvery moonlight ribbons filtering in through the curtained windows, you could just barely make out the rows upon rows of books you’d pestered your father into lining. Surrounded by heavyset tables, and your favorite, cushioned armchair. Luxurious, yet completely dwarfed when seating the lone silhouette-

“If this is an attack, then I surely don’t mind.”

“Fuck-” you scream, reflexively grabbing the nearest book spine you could reach to throw in the direction of the shadow. “Show yourself.”

Somehow, it’s as if the book bounces off an invisible forcefield, plopping down unceremoniously onto the velvety carpet right in front of the tall figure. 

“And here I thought princesses usually curtseyed.” that deep, honeyed voice cuts right through your heavy breathing. He makes a move to get up - languid, and torturous, as if he enjoyed your agonizing suspense. “Well, maybe I do prefer being pelted by a- hey, that doesn’t mean pick up another book!”

In a split-second, you were brandishing a weighty encyclopedia this time - holding it firmly behind your head in a ready stance to throw once again. 

“Show yourself.”

The man sighs, stepping into a channel of low light. It illuminated his stature - taller than you’d thought, towering well above most of the generals in the royal court. Muscled, yet lean - powerful, the thought strikes you. Magnetizing. 

Someone from outside the kingdom, you observe, otherwise you’d have remembered that cloudy white hair, strands falling over a strange, black blindfold stretched across the upper half of his face. Leaving you only a set of high cheekbones, and a pert, pretty mouth to admire.

One that curls into such a mischievous smirk of neat pearly whites, and a tiny dimple digging into his cheek. “Now, I’ve never had anyone this eager to see me.” He drops into a courteous bow at the waist, expensive blue fabrics rippling. “From the North kingdom, Satoru, at your service, princess.”

Your hand falters - partially because of the heavy weight, partially because you recognised that gold “G” insignia in the middle of this stranger- Satoru’s uniform. The Gojo family. 

That mysterious, estranged kingdom from the Northern part of the country that hadn’t been seen since you were young. You’d heard stories of them - everyone in this vast country had, it was impossible not to. Of their cruel winters and even crueler king, how blood stained every room in his palace. It was rumored he was a monster, and yet, no one ever saw his face - if they did, they never lived to tell the tale. 

You knew your father had invited the king to every single ball out of diplomatic obligation, but he’d never attended. Never even bothered to respond. 

So who was this?

“No one. Just a lowly attendant accompanying my king, your highness.” you’re jolting when he purrs, a brow quirking at just how he knew what you were thinking. “The question ah- showed on your face, my apologies.”

Finding your voice, “Um, I apologize, too, Satoru-” You note the lack of a last name, “-for the book. I can’t imagine being hit with Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet was a very warm welcome.” And like a little truce, you’re placing down the encyclopedia in your hand. Flashing him your most practiced smile, “I bet you’re hiding out here for the same reasons as me, then.”

That draws out a pretty laugh from him, bubbly and boyish. “Mhm, the ladies just refuse to leave you alone, too?”

“Well, more like the lords there.”

He hums, something that sends a chill down your spine. Words just a little strained, “Not much for bragging about horses?” 

And suddenly, you get the urge to snark back, huffing in a way you know your preparational teacher would faint at. “Absolutely not. I’d rather face a vampire than listen to Naoya and the “absolutely enormous” weaponry he uses to-”

“-compensate!”

“-compensate.” the two of you finish at the same time. “I like this place a lot better, it’s quiet- though…” your voice trails off in wonder. “It’s strange, guests aren’t supposed to be allowed in the library unsupervised.” His jaw clenches when your eyes sweep him, “We are supposed to have a few guards here but I don’t know where-”

All of a sudden, it’s like you’re being splashed with cold water. And your words are dying on your tongue when the room drops a few degrees in temperature. 

Satoru is unnervingly still, yet he catches onto your slight shiver. “This damned wind, am I right?” And he’s gesturing at the windows with his head. The closed windows. Words tumbling quickly from those pink lips now, “Anyways- why don’t you sit down-” He prowls towards you, slow, confident. Large hands rest at your arms, they’re pale, surprisingly cold - guiding you easily to sit on the unoccupied armchair. “-since m’being nice enough to let you hide out here.”

His words drip with tease, and you still couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they’d be twinkling. No one ever dared to speak to you this way - it was always either thinly-veiled condescension or fear towards royalty. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t mind. 

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “Yeah? Well what do I owe you in return for that, Satoru?”

His lips part, as if not expecting this response. Before letting out another sharp cackle at your expense, “Well, why don’t you-” You can’t tear your eyes away from his magnetic figure when Satoru begins unbuttoning his flowing coat to reveal a snow-white shirt underneath. Wrapping it snug around your shoulders in one, fluid motion, a hand of his tilts your head towards him. “-give me your soul?”

The Gojo emblem burns into your back, and Satoru’s deep, almost raspy tone rings in your ears. It sounded like a joke - but looking into his ethereal features, there was no trace of a grin on what you could see of it. And once again, you’re struck by the pure power radiating off of him. 

You hoped it was a joke.

“S-soul’s not for sale.” you manage to choke out, trying to make it look like you weren’t breathing in his metallic, peppermint scent. Heady. Pulling the soft fabric tighter around your cold body, “Steep price for a hideout, don’t you think?”

“S’a discount for you, flower.” his chilling breath fans your face. Letting out hushed, “Heh, you should see the prices I charge others.”

You’re reeling, face burning, “Flower?”

“Because you’re shaking like one, see?” The pads of his fingers move from under your chin to trace up, up, up the goosebumps on your exposed arms. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Hypnotic. 

And his steps are soundless as he walks over behind you, the moonlight giving him an angelic halo. Haunting, almost. “And you’re just as gorgeous, like a wild rose. Way too gorgeous for the fuckin’ bastards out there, might I add, princess.”

The nerve!

Heart pounding, you turn around to- call him out for his disrespect? Snap back? Accept the compliment?

You don’t know - and you don’t get to find out, either. Because before your eyes can search for Satoru’s mysterious figure, the door to the library is slamming open with a deafening bang!

“Ah! There you are!” your lady-in-waiting’s relieved voice floods your ears. And she’s barging in with no comment about your sudden stiffness, or that foreign coat around your shoulders. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, your highness. His majesty is just about to make his speech of the night and needs you there.”

Shit, out of all the scandals. 

“I- I can explain.” You’re desperately trying to catch Satoru’s eye to make up an excuse for why you’re alone with a strange man away from the ball, shooting from your seat to look around the library. “We’re just-”

The suddenly empty library. 

“Yes yes, I understand that the balls aren’t exactly your favorite pastime.” The oblivious girl is pushing you towards the door, brown eyes narrowed. “But we’ve got to get going now.”

Despite her wrangling you outside, you manage to sneak a few glances backwards, straining to see if he was hiding in the shadows. Only to be met with a now-rumpled armchair and the still, dark bookshelves. As bare as if Satoru never existed - the only proof of his existence being a sad copy of Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet lying on the ground. 

And yet, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. 

You feel it all through the short walk back to the ballroom, Nobara’s excited chatter about how finely your all-new coat was made filtering through one ear and out the next. Even when you reach the edge of the dance floor, even when you feel every single other eye in the room on you - you feel it. 

“Um, Nobara.” you whisper, discreetly shuffling the coat off your shoulders. “Please take this to my chambers for me.”

The younger girl is positively bursting at the seams, murmuring conspiratorially to you, “So is this where you were? With who- The “G” what does that-”

“Ah! My daughter!” Saved by your father’s booming voice - though, you wouldn’t consider it too much of a salvation when you’re immediately being whisked away to the high platform your father’s throne was seated on. His arms spread wide to greet you in a hug despite stiff etiquette. 

“You’re late.” he whispers in your ear.

It’s all you can do to manage out a quiet, “S-Sorry.”

Without another word, he’s addressing the congregation in the middle of the dance ballroom again. More ruler than father at this very moment. “My people, we are gathered here today to dance, to sing, to forget about the horrors happening in our beloved nation.” To large murmurs of agreement he continues, “And despite it all, it’s a reality we must all live with. Me, especially, as your king, have a duty to fulfill.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you wonder where this is all going - your father never brought up vampires during a time like this. Never. 

Clearing his throat, “And as we all know, I’m not getting any younger here, unfortunately. Which is why-” He claps his hands once, and three figures - one of which being Naoya, amongst two other nobles you briefly recognized - step forward from the crowd. “Ah- there should be one more- Anyway, after thorough consideration with the table of elders, we have decided to go forward with the betrothal process for my dear daughter here. With the joining of hands will not only be the joining of kingdoms - but the joining of arms, and our people shall prevail as one over the vampires.”

You think you might stop breathing, eyes burning and trained firmly on the ground. This had been a topic of conversation - well, more the elders conversing while you skipped out on every meeting once this discussion was brought up. 

You knew this would happen. You knew. But now? At this very moment? All you can do is stand there and listen while he rattles off. 

“I know four of the- erm, three of the most eligible young suitors of the land will do their utmost to vie for her heart - and her hand. No easy task I tell you.” Your fists clench, head swimming. “And in a week’s time, we will hold the grand ball to announce my successor.”

Shit - a week. A week.

Somewhere in your line of vision you see - you feel that spark of blue. And you’re raising your head to cheers echoing from all around the room, and still no sign of where those eyes are. 

“The next time we meet, will be with the future king and queen!”

Fuck. 

---

That night was spent with a few too many tears, and a consoling Nobara at your side all until daybreak. And if you held onto that comforting, peppermint-scented coat through it all, well, you were only glad that you seemed too pitiful for her to question it. 

Feeling much more composed and only slightly less bitter about the prospect of being married off to a stuck-up noble you didn’t know, you made your way to breakfast the next morning. An affair usually spent with your father, or in the palace gardens - but this time, surrounded by four suitors under the guise of getting to know you. Sizing each other up, maybe. 

“Ah, your highness, good morning!” you sweetly reciprocate the greetings once you’re escorted into the dining room, taking your seat at the very end of the long, mahogany table. 

Sighing you take in the scene - on your left was Lord Naoya from last night, the same sharp grins and shifty eyes as you remembered. Seated beside him was the young duke of the Kashimo clan - hair striking, his battle staff laid out next to him on the table. Intimidating. 

But nothing in comparison to the hulking man on your right, it seemed as if his uniform was on the verge of bursting. Face sullen, letting his pink locks fall into place - Sukuna, you think you remember. 

“Your highness.” Ichiji bows, taking his place supervising the breakfast. “I am afraid our guests from the Northern kingdom will not be able to attend this breakfast today. He sends his deepest apologies. B-but-” His face-paled, looking scarred for life. “-he did have his um- attendant send this note-”

You’re gratefully taking the creamy scrap of paper before the words have even left Ichiji’s mouth, flipping it over to reveal slanted, beautiful calligraphy - Apologies for the sudden departure last night, flower. And I hope you forgive my king for not being here to deter the talk of horses - duty holds both man and beast from freedom. Worry not, we will be seeing your sweet smile again soon. But, for now, give those three bastards a rude gesture from me.

You giggle, tucking away the note. A tiny pang of disappointment hitting you out of nowhere at the lack of that gold “G” emblem anywhere along the table - and more importantly, the white-haired enigma that would follow.

All three men were glowering, yet begrudgingly plowing on with their conversation from before as you settled. Not having the energy to contribute, you listened in. 

“-this would never have happened in my estate.”

“Oh buzz off-” Kashimo interrupts Naoya, before throwing a guilty look your way at his crass words. As if you didn’t say worse. “Apologies, your highness. As I was saying-” he turns back to the man. “Don’t think we haven’t heard of those vampire killings in your court that you tried to cover up, your defense isn’t as impenetrable as you want it to seem, Naoya.”

That causes you to raise your brow - and evidently, Sukuna’s as well. “That so? Little fraud, aren’t ya, Zenin?”

The shorter man sputters indignantly, “You- you little- you call me a fraud and yet you’re the only one who didn’t bother to help investigate last night? Got something to hide, oh king-of-curses?”

“Tch, shut up.” That little nickname ticked something off in Sukuna, and his grip on his delicate fork tightens. Smirk intentionally bared to piss off, “It’s just because when the princess marries me, she won’t have to worry about vampires attacking guards in the middle of a ball.”

Wait, what?

“Yeah right, you and what army because I have an absolutely enormous-”

“What do you mean?” Your smooth voice cuts through their bickering, and all three men freeze, gazes snapping to you as if they’d already forgotten you were there. “I didn’t hear about any killings last night.”

If you thought they were tense before then you weren’t prepared for right now - shoulders raising in surrender, for all their blabbering, not a word was uttered after your accusatory question. After a few beats of silence, you scoff in frustration, turning towards your escort, squirming and avoiding your pointed stare at the very corner of the room. 

“Ichiji.” The man looked like he could positively give anything to blend into the meticulously hand-painted flowers on the wall. “Ichiji, tell me what happened.” 

“P-princess!” he yelps, adjusting his glasses. “I- I’m afraid the king said- please I can’t-”

“Ichiji…”

“P-please don’t banish me-”

You’re on your feet now, cornering the poor man. Mentally, you make a note to give him a raise. Eyes narrowing, “I won’t banish you, but as the future queen I have a right to know, don’t I?”

“...”

“...please?”

And the remaining men had been watching with morbid fascination as you worked your magic. They were already aware that the frail attendant was the weakest link out of them all, but what they certainly did not expect was exactly how weak. 

It only took a single bat of your lashes before his pale cheeks colored an almost-concerning pink. Eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment, as the words spilled from his lips. Neverending and slurring with haste as he speaks in one breath, “Th-three of the guards stationed near the outer corridor and library wing were found killed by a vampire last night before you retired for the night, your highness. Their b-bodies were disposed of, and this in combination with all the recent killings was why the king hurried the announcement for your engagement. B-but, his majesty decreed that this never be relayed to you in order to keep you in high spirits after the betrothal eep-!”

“Is- is that so?” you breathe, eyes wide. Taking one last look at the four speechless men, before walking out of the tall doorway. “I seem to have lost my appetite, I will be heading for my chambers now. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, my lords.”

Shit shit shit - how did you not notice? 

Maybe you walked right past the killer last night and didn’t even realize - who knows what could’ve been hiding in the shadows. How did you not realize? How did you not see?

Just then, a thought strikes you - did Satoru see?

---

It’s one of the whirlwind of questions ringing around in your mind even by the time you hear a steady knock on your door. Jolting you upright from where you splayed out on your plush, silken bed, rows upon rows of books on vampires haphazardly surrounding you.

Peering out of your large window, you notice the hues of pink and red painting the sky, a big red sun just dipping below the horizon - shit, when did you even fall asleep? 

“Come in.” you answer, voice scratchy. Rubbing away the sleep in your eyes, you could barely make out the hazy outline of Ichiji standing in your doorway. 

“Ah- your highness, I apologize for waking you up.” he bows. “But master Kashimo will be headed out for a late-night hunt at this very moment, and requested your presence shall you wish it. He noticed that you seemed upset at breakfast, and wanted to make it up to you.”

You take a moment to mull over the question - it certainly was rude for you to just ignore your guests all day. And considering you might just be marrying one of them, it wouldn’t kill anyone to actually get to know them.

“Alright.” you reply, voice even. And your answer seems to surprise the other man, “Tell Tsukumo to get my gear ready, I will be down as soon as I change.”

“Y-yes, princess! I will call for Nobara to help you get dressed.”

As the door shut once more behind him, you threw off your heavy blanket- and your coat? Satoru’s coat, which had evidently been draped around your upper half. Heart stuttering, you didn’t remember putting that on before…

Hm, you had to thank Nobara for that later.

---

Hunting with Kashimo was, unexpectedly, dull. 

“So…” you drag your words, trying to fill the tense silence. “What is it that we’re actually hunting for-”

“Shhh-” you hear for about the third time this past hour. A brow of yours quirking at the way it seemed like the two of you had been wandering the woods belonging to your kingdom’s estate for hours, and you still didn’t know what it was you were supposed to be looking for. 

Alright, perhaps hunting wasn’t the best opportunity to get to know your potential future husband. 

“My lord…” you call out warily, already aware of the duke’s affinity for hunting. “Maybe we should rest for a bit, after all, the stars are out already and the moon is so bright.”

He barely even turns to look back at you, “No time. The woods belonging to your kingdom have some of the rarest species of cursed animals in this country. I must make the most of this week in that case, your highness.”

You brighten at the closest shred of conversation in so long. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard! I also hear they-”

“Shh!”

So close. 

Letting out a resigned sigh, your eyes glaze over as you watch Kashimo trace his thick fingers over animal tracks on the dirt. Suddenly, gesturing for you to follow him as he sped off in another direction. 

It doesn’t take too long for him to stray out of sight. Meanwhile, your legs lag behind in protest - and pettiness, you realize. Grumbling to yourself about how you’d rather have watched paint dry as you’re sure the elders often did. Well, you look at the now-barren pathway, at least now you didn’t have to worry about someone shushing you all the ti-

“AHH!”

And then, all of a sudden - it felt like you were the hunted. 

It’s like every bit of blood drains from your body at the blood-curdling scream. Grip tightening on your bow, you’re jolting at the direction it came from - where did Kashimo disappear off to again? 

Yet, for how much you knew your kingdom like the back of your hand, it’s so dark. The moon barely peeking through gloomy gray wisps of clouds that you don’t know where exactly you’re running to - just that something was tugging. Reeling you in. No destination in sight until you’re crashing face-first into- a wall?

“Hey, flower, where are ya running off to this late?”

Your hairs raise, something visceral in your body jolting. 

Satoru - blindfold and all.  

“Wh- Satoru thank God you’re here.” you gasp, looking nervously over his broad shoulders. “I heard a scream, and I’m worried about Kashimo because he went somewhere over there and-” You’re pointing aimlessly in his direction, before clasping a hand around Satoru’s defined bicep. Tugging, “You have to help me, that idiot even insisted on no guards because of disturbing the wildlife and I’m so worried and-”

Before you can react, big strong arms are enveloping you. And you’re suddenly hit with the smell of peppermint and Satoru - something so sickly sweet tinging the air, it makes you droop limply into his firm hold. Your skin burns when he breathes in, deep. 

“Shhh shhh, I know I know, princess.” he hums, pulling you deeper against his chest. Until you could feel every dip and curve of his pectorals. “You must’ve been scared, right?” At your hesitant nod, “You did good. You did perfect- in fact. Especially putting up with that pretentious bastard.”

The shocked laugh that drags from your throat has Satoru sighing contentedly, an almost-pained grunt leaving him as he pulls away ever-so-slightly. You felt much the same. 

“S’alright, I’m pretty sure it was some animal.” he soothes. He clasps your hands with his, running a damp thumb over your knuckles. “I saw him trudging about disturbing more wildlife over there.”

You breath catches in your chest at just how close Satoru was now, his breath mingling with yours. Pretty plump lips so close - too close. Yet you’re leaning in closer, like you’re drawn by a thread. “Are you sure? Maybe we should-” You gasp, eyes widening when you look down at where your hands were intertwined - red. Or, what you assumed to be red, a saturated, patchy stain on your hands where Satoru’s met yours. He stiffens when he follows your gaze, trying to pull away, but you only hold your grip harder. “Satoru, are you bleeding? Or is this-”

“Not mine.” his voice is hard - and for a second you have to wonder whether this is really the same Satoru. And you swear there’s a little tremor in his words as he explains, “You see, I went out on a little hunt myself, flower.”

Even if Satoru didn’t have his blindfold on, you’re sure his face would’ve been unreadable. That almost-familiar grin of his is strained. Too strained. Yet, his movements are unwavering as he tries to wipe away the blood. “Must’ve forgotten to wipe down, I apologize for sullying your hands, princess.”

“Let me-” you mutter, taking a hold of the coat around your shoulders to wipe away the blood. Uncaring for what you were dirtying at the moment. “I swear you need to take better care of yourself, Satoru. Seriously.” 

And you didn’t see them - but somehow you could just feel the amusement dancing in Satoru’s eyes. Raising your confused gaze up to meet his, “What?”

He only flashes you a knowing grin, “S’jus’, you’re wearing my coat, your highness.”

Your movements pause, mouth gaping open while you try to pathetically spout out an excuse. “I- I didn’t mean to get this coat dirty, oh my god. I didn’t think-”

“S’alright.” he inches in even closer. A smirk grazing those sinful lips of his, “I actually prefer it like that, you look like mine.” Taking a deep breath, “You smell like mine.” 

And before you can ask about his cryptic message, he’s placing a hand at the back of your waist. A very improper hand that would definitely make the elders gasp in scandal. “We should head back to the palace, it’s getting late. I will escort you, m’sure that born hunter of yours is already halfway back too.”

“Carry me.” you blurt out, your body aching to feel more of him. And before you can retract your words - probably sputter a few apologies, you’re being cradled by a smug Satoru. One hand under your knees, the other supporting you like you’re weightless. 

“Heh, a princess carry for a princess.”

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble with embarrassment when he walks forward slowly, your legs swaying in midair. “Want my soul for this as well?”

And you can feel Satoru’s muscles ripple, you can feel the way his breath hitches in his chest ever-so-slightly. Rumbling as he drawls, “More than you’d know.”

“S’that a discount, too? You still didn’t tell me what you charge others.” you quip, remembering the conversation from the night before. 

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, your highness.”

You’re quirking a brow, something hot churning at the pit of your stomach at that ragged tone to his words. “I’m onto you, y’know.” You stare up at his clenched jaw, highlighted in the dim moonlight. His long, pale neck, the crevices of his blindfold. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like if you could peek under. “Onto you and your absurdly high prices, Satoru.”

He breathes out a shuddering, overly-dramatic shudder. “Mhm, flower, I should be worried.” Before looking up at the sky - and you wondered just how well he could see through his blindfold. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

That night, you dreamt of long-winded star-gazing and blue, blue eyes. 

---

“What do you mean Lord Kashimo has left for his kingdom?” you hiss, feeling a faint stab of offense. Seriously, were you that awful at hunting? “He didn’t make any indication of it last night.”

And if your careless words made Nobara beam with slight embarrassment, you didn’t take note of it - too caught up in what you’d just heard. Enough so that it takes her next words to bring you out of your stupor, “Exactly what I said, your highness. The lordship and his court have all vacated their wing, leaving behind only a letter of forgiveness for ending the festivities early.”

“Still.” you murmur petulantly. Setting aside another one of your books on Vampire: Mates, Murder, and More. “It’s strange, I thought he was here for the hunting sprees, if not for me.” Your tiara weighs heavy on your head as you turn to your young lady-in-waiting. “I would like for Ichiji to catch up to Kashimo’s traveling party, make sure they’re safe, and send them my well wishes.”

Ha! Take that elders - you’d show them you’re fully capable of holding diplomatic relations as a ruler. 

“As you wish, princess. Additionally, this-” She’s holding out a small pouch of blue fabric that you’d never seen before. “-was found by your bedside when cleaning and I wished to give it back safely.” Before her polite smile drops into a much more devious smirk, “A gift from one of the suitors, perhaps~?”

You gesture for her to hand it over, the silk casing soft under your touch. Detailed. One-of-a-kind, from what your tedious lessons in the history of fabrics had taught you. You didn’t recognize the patterns sewn onto it as something typical for your kingdom - or any other you’d learned about, really.

“M’not sure.” you whisper. Opening the little purse to reveal a flash of gold - a necklace. Thin and intricate, holding a sapphire pendant in the shape of an eye. 

Blue.

A blue you knew too well - the same one that peeked out from every dark corner, that you saw before you slept at night. The one that’s been by your side for years.

Constant. Now coming to haunt you. 

Chills run down your spine, and your fingers tremble at how life-like it looked. Burning into your very soul. 

“Would you like for me to help you put it on?” Nobara asks, mistaking your shock for difficulty. And yet, you don’t correct her - body moving before your mind to simply nod. 

There was only one clasp on the chain - leaving you to worry about the fit. But when it was hooked around your neck, you found that it fit you so perfectly. Like it was tailored to you - and only you. Why was it so perfect?

Why did it capture the exact color you’d been chasing after your whole life - since before you’d even formed memories? Since you were nothing but a surly, teary-eyed little girl that was crying about the dark, babbling about that “blue flash” that no one else ever seemed to see.

“If that will be all, your highness. I will take my leave.” With a nod and a low bow, you’re left all by yourself in your sprawling chambers. Wondering, somewhat in amusement, whether you’d be let off this marriage pact if all the other suitors suddenly left as well. Hell, maybe you could marry whoever got you this necklace since they apparently know you so well. 

And you swear - maybe it was the fatigue from trekking last night, maybe it was the stress from the past month - but you swear the wind picks up in its chilly bite. Howling just low enough that it sounds like a deep, taunting cackle. 

The necklace doesn’t leave its palace around your neck for the next few days. You still didn’t know who’d gifted it to you - right inside your chambers for god’s sake - and if either of the two suitors remaining knew, they didn’t make any indication of it either. 

Three, technically, but it seemed that the more the days passed, the less you saw of the mysterious king of the Northern kingdom. 

While Sukuna and Naoya had taken it upon themselves to woo you by joining you in your daily activities, he hadn’t even shown his face to you yet. You were sure your father would’ve had him humiliated and thrown out of the palace already if he wasn’t afraid for his life. 

But you didn’t mind, because you saw enough of Satoru to make up for King Gojo and Kashimo. The man seemed well and fully intent to stick by your side, talking yourselves well into the night. 

It was on a night like this - sprawled out along the plush armchairs in the very library you’d met, only a few days after Kashimo’s departure - you asked, “Satoru, what color are your eyes?”

That makes him pause in the middle of his extremely animated story about how he’d caught Earl Yaga in the middle of an artistic dance routine. The baritone of his voice cracking so uncharacteristically as he responds with, “Wh-why do you ask, princess?”

“Because.” you roll your eyes. “In four days m’gonna be marrying, and it might just be your king. Yet, I don’t even know his attendant’s eye color - what type of good queen would I be then?”

You knew it was a flimsy excuse, truthfully you just wanted to see Satoru. All of Satoru.

“Not many have wanted to look into my eyes” 

You tilt your head, “How come?”

“Well, I can assure you that they aren’t half as alluring as yours.” Satoru pushes back your tiara ever-so-slightly to reveal your face to him better, fingers dancing down to fiddle with your pendant. “You’re a strange one, aren’t ya, flower?” he chuckles, face inching closer to yours - and for a moment, you think he might do something else. “Tell me, how are the wedding preparations going?”

Ah, right - the wedding preparations. Your wedding preparations, to someone else. 

Did you want him to do something else?

“W-well-” you pull back from his hypnotic presence. Heart lurching, necklace burning cold into your skin. “Sukuna keeps trying to teach me his very particular diet, I swear I’ve spent much more time with Uraume learning it than with him- they’re a sweetheart though, I can’t complain.” Eyes trying to avoid the intensity of his gaze, “Oh- and Naoya still talks about his weaponry, however, I think his Zenin elders had a word with him because he asked to meet me in the gardens tomorrow evening to actually get to know me for once.”

You brave to take a look at Satoru at the end of his spiel - only to be met with a face you never thought you’d see. His mouth a tight gash, jaw ticking, and you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

Terrifying. Magnetic. 

Powerful. 

The library was always cold - but you fail to suppress a shiver at the sudden grip in the air. “S-Satoru?”

And suddenly, at the mere sound of your voice, everything clicks back to normalcy. You’re staring that familiar grin painted onto his face again, musing slyly, “How much d’you wanna bet he’ll ask about your weaponry instead?”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s only much, much later at night when you’re forced to retire early - Satoru slipping past the library earlier than usual with groans of his “attendant duties” that you realize - he didn’t answer your question. 

---

“P-princess, will you be alright going alone? I don’t think-”

“It’ll be alright, Ichiji, I’m just meeting Lord Naoya.” you wave off the stammering man. Tugging your velvety coat snugly around your body, “Honestly, you act like I haven’t been out in the gardens alone before.”

And it was true, since returning from his little meeting with the Kashimo court, your jumpy attendant seemed even more so - and you didn’t even know that was even impossible. Always peeking cautiously behind corners of the winding hallways, always hovering close by you even when his duty didn’t require it. 

He’d told you - in that quiet, shaky voice of his - that Kashimo was well, and headed straight for his kingdom to fulfill emergency duties. To which you’d accepted - you understood the gravity of responsibility, after all. 

“But- but, your highness!” he gasps, pulling you out of your little reverie. “I don’t think- with the way he-”

A spine-chilling breeze rustles the nearby tree, sending shivers down your spine. Howling in your ears. You squint your eyes against the cold, “Sorry, what was that, Ichiji?”

But the man in front doesn’t speak - fuck, you didn’t even know if he was breathing. Face a sickly pallor, mouth gaping open and shut like he wanted to say something - he needed to say something. Yet, he wasn’t even looking at you, wide eyes locked on something over your shoulder. 

“Are you-” Your body holds you back, feeling two burning eyes on you - and you have to force yourself to look over your shoulder. Only to see- nothing? “-are you alright?”

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you’re turning back to face your attendant - only to see him sprinting back down the entrance as fast as his knobbly legs could carry him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” you call, hoping it echoed far enough to be heard.

Strange. 

It’s all you can think about for the next half an hour you’re seated on that dainty, painted bench in the middle of the palace gardens, waiting for your potential future husband. And for the next hour. And the next. 

It’s by the time the sun has fully set, when twinkling stars are dotting the night sky that you settle with the conclusion that yes, it seems that Naoya has already made his decision about the marriage. And no it doesn’t end with a wedding. 

“Dammit.” you spit, running a hand through the hair you had Nobara fuss about with. “S’not like I wanted to marry you anyway, bastard.”

And you didn’t - you really didn’t. Whenever you dared to imagine walking down that decorated aisle, Naoya was the last person you saw.

But seated alone and abandoned, trying to cover yourself from the biting chill of the night, you never felt more like an unworthy heir. Fuck, if no one wanted to marry you how would you even dare to think of taking over the throne?

Maybe you should just-

“We have got to stop meeting like this, flower. S’like you’re haunting me.”

“Satoru!” you gasp, throwing yourself into his embrace. You’re reaching up to loop two arms around his neck, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. That asshole had the audacity to stand me up.” Pulling back so your face ghosts his, “I got all dolled up just for him to leave me like this. As if I wanted to be with him, I was just trying to be a good- a good h-host and-” 

Suddenly, you’re struck with the realization of how close you two actually are. You could count every crease on his blindfold, pinpoint exactly where every dimple at the corner of his grin was. 

Your hands slide their way down to his sculpted chest, pushing slightly. “-I apologize, this was forward of me.”

But his arms only tighten around your waist - when did they even get there? Large and steady, pulling you back to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, your racing pulse. “Stay.” he groans, and he sounds slightly out-of-breath, heavy exhales tickling your ear.

“We can’t be caught like this, Satoru.” you breathe, but that familiar little tug has you shuffling closer. Breathing in that familiar metallic sweet scent you’ve grown to love, “I- I’m getting-” Bile creeps up at the back of your throat, and you laugh bitterly. “I think I’m getting married in three days, y’know? To Lord Sukuna, I assume, since two of my suitors ah- ran away and the other refuses to even see my face.”

His thick fingers dig deeper into the extravagant corset at your waist, “I know. Fuck- don’t I know.”

It’s a steady beat of silence, so still. So tense you could hear every stuttering heartbeat of yours, and strangely enough, you had the nagging feeling that he could, too. 

“You could just marry me.” Satoru’s abrupt confession breaks the silence, and you find yourself sinking deeper into his soft coat. Wrapping yourself up in his heady presence. “Be my queen. You wouldn’t have to worry about duties or elders or- or vampires.”

And the night was still. So still. 

Despite the way your heart races, eyes blinking up in disbelief, you find it in yourself to deadpan, “F-funny. Do I have to give you my soul for that as well?” Oh, some stupid little part of you think you might just have.

And you’d expected Satoru to crack a laugh, to give you a teasing smile while he carried on that little inside joke between the two of you. You’d expected him to no sooner shove you off and talk about it being late. Hell, a part of you even expected this to be some elaborate set-up from the elders to get you caught in such a compromising position with the no-longer stranger from the Northern kingdom. 

But, no. It’s anything but that - everything but that. 

Because the taller man only rasps, nose-to-nose now, “No.” Sounding like his sanity was slipping away from him with every breath, fingers making their dance down to twirl your sapphire pendant between them. “I’d give you mine.”

You can feel his breath fanning your cheeks, head dipping slowly - so torturously slowly. As if he was giving you ample opportunity to run away if you wanted to. But you don’t think you could move for the life of you. 

Instead, you’re dipping closer, gliding the tip of your thumb over his defined cheekbone. Mere millimeters away - just one push. Another hand of yours steadies at the back of his neck, feeling those snowing locks under your fingers. 

One. 

Your thumb dips just under the seam of his blindfold - unwillingly. 

“Your highness.” Satoru’s voice is cold, his fingers lacing with your own even colder. Something eerie. And even with the delicate touch you could feel the power thrumming through Satoru’s body. “This is for you.”

You can only stand there in shocked silence as the moment shatters, and he produces a wild rose as if out of thin air. “Consider it from King Gojo.” Touch searing against yours when he hands it to you, you feel drunk off of him “Perhaps the night is late now.”

Right. The king. 

When you’re walking back in the directions of the palace’s warm lights, you don’t think you’ve ever felt safer. Strangely enough. 

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I’m onto you.”

“You’re onto me.” he’s tucking the bloom over your ear. Before stepping back into the inky pool of shadows beside the entrance you came from. “Sweet dreams, flower.”

That night, when you tuck yourself into bed, you swear you hear a faint whisper of those same three words lulling you to sleep. Over and over. 

Sweet.

Dreams.

Flower. 

---

Floral preservation was one of the lessons you’d been forced to attend growing up in the palace, but even you didn’t know how that wild rose Satoru gifted you hadn’t wilted yet. 

It remained as fresh and prim as the night it was picked, bluish pink petals never fading. You didn’t keep it safely in a bowl of water amongst the other plants and flowers in your bedroom. Somehow, never out of place, always tucked safely behind your ear in the days that followed. Perhaps it was improper to keep it on you even when you were being fitted into an engagement gown to be promised off to another man. But Satoru didn’t complain, and you didn’t either. 

With Kashimo departing for his kingdom early, and Naoya apparently following in his footsteps due to “irrevocable differences”, it was now almost confirmed that the future king was to be Lord Sukuna. Not like King Gojo had made any effort to reach out - and Satoru hadn’t mentioned it either. 

Satoru. 

Things were…the same after that night, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

It must be done, you sigh, wincing at the pinch of the flowing white dress being suited onto you by the bustling tailor. At least it could be worse, even if you’d rather…

“Honestly, young people these days.” Yaga speaks up from where he was fussing with the silken hem of your gown for tomorrow. “I heard of that Naoya brat leaving out of nowhere, princess. My condolences.” 

“Ah-” you startle, not expecting to be addressed. “It’s not your fault, we likely didn’t mesh all that well. I just wish he left a note- Honestly, I’m lucky to even have a suitor left after these six days.”

Another grimace leaves you when you feel another tweak of pins pricking at your skin. The other man hums lowly, “Don’t say that, anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyway-” He gets up from his position kneeling, towering over you to admire his own work. “How do you like it, your highness?”

You let out a gasp when you face the floor-length mirror, “Oh my god, it’s perfect.” The dress was regal, decadent. With flowing tresses resembling a petals, and gilded gold and blue weaved into the fabric. 

Blue. 

“I fashioned it after that necklace and flower of yours.” You unwittingly reach for that familiar pendant, “I ah- forgive the assumption, but I assumed you would be wearing them both at the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, princess?”

Taking another long look in the mirror, you nod, “Yeah. I will.”

---

“I knew it.” he laughs shrilly. “I fuckin’ knew there was something wrong with you. As soon as I saw you butterin’ the princess up in the library, I knew you were a fuckin’ freak.”

The other man only responds with ominous silence, letting labored breathing cut through the bone-chilling air. Clearly unsatisfied, “What? Not gonna talk now? Aren’t ya just in it for the crown like me? Have the bitch, just give me the crown.” Goading now, “I bet you’re not even an attendant are ya- I know what you are-”

His words are cut off with another choked-up gasp, followed shortly by a strained growl. “I know- what you are-”

Red stains the marble floor - a problem for later. 

“I know, King Gojo.” And it’s the last thing he sees. “And you’ll reap what you sow, she’ll never love you.”

Blue. 

“You’ve haunted me too long, flower.”

“Satoru–!” you scream, throwing your soft bed sheets off your body. 

It was burning - you were burning, gasping for the cold lungfuls of air that filled your empty bedroom. Mind bleary, distantly, you register that it’s around daybreak - tiny fingers of golden sunlight just barely dipping through your window - your open window. 

Hastily, you’re tumbling out of bed to slam it shut. Heart still pounding when you take in the mess of flower petals from those congratulatory bouquets you’d gotten. Ruined. Only the stems left in the vases after that sudden, chilling wind. 

“What-” Your eyes dart around to look over your dresser, where you always kept Satoru’s wild rose. And a shiver creeps down your spine when you realize it lay snug tucked behind your ear, safe and sound. Exactly where you didn’t keep it. “-happened?”

You couldn’t settle back into bed after that - couldn’t even think about it. So you find yourself reaching for your wardrobe of dresses, running your fingers along the intricate gown made for your engagement ball tonight. Your engagement to Sukuna. 

If this was the nightmare, and tonight was to be the dream - why did your stomach turn so?

---

It was difficult convincing Nobara to let you keep the wild rose on after getting ready. 

“But that’s so last season.” she bemoans. “No offense, your highness, but even old lady Ogami wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flowers in her hair these days.”

You’re giving her your best puppy dog eyes, “Please, Nobara?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you raid my exclusive wardrobe the next time you want to play dress-up?”

“...”

Which was how you found yourself shoved into a dress that was way too gorgeously palatial, barely even having the time to admire the lush gold and blue decorations around the sparkling ballroom before you were being ushered next to your father on his throne. 

You fiddle with your ringed fingers, feeling more and more like a lamb sent to slaughter - a very opulent slaughter - with each step. 

“I am so proud of you for this week, and you look absolutely divine, my love.” your father whispers into your ear once you’re up on the crushed velvet platform. “I hear from Ichiji that you know, I apologize we couldn’t go through with this marriage under better circumstances.”

You shake your head, giving him a calm smile - you’d already forgiven him, sometimes there was duty far greater than any man. 

“My people, as promised, we are gathered once more to celebrate the joining of two hands - and two kingdoms.” The king projects his voice out to the eager crowd, “Together, these two young loves will face their duty. They will face the dangers. They will face our future.”

The thought had you clenching your fist into the soft fabric of your gown, looking down at your feet in a bow. 

“As I did with my father before me - God rest his soul - the future king and queen will oversee their responsibilities to protect our people from those treacherous vampires. The elders-” he stops short, eyes widening at the empty seats on the balcony - where the table of elders always sat. Abandoned. Chilling. “...have decreed, in accordance with our princess, to introduce my daughter to you all as our future queen-”

Your father gestures a hand your way, and you step forwards to cheers, still not daring to look up. And all you could see were two, gold-toed boots stepping into your field of vision.

“-and our future king!”

“Look up, flower, this is the best part.”

Gasping, you raise your head - Satoru.

“Y-you?” 

He smiles that pearly smile at you, one that makes your knees weaken, “Me.” Before leaning down conspiratorially,  “Better get moving now, the king just declared that the big bad Northern king and the precious princess will have their first dance as a couple.”

It felt like you were moving through a dream as you slip your hand into his, flinching at the feeling of his cold lips meeting the back of your hand.

The crowd of whispering nobles part to make a path for the two of you, and Satoru is so gentle when he leads you into the middle of the dance floor. Weightless on his feet, swiftly placing a burning hand on your waist - just below where the elders would consider proper. 

The other intertwining with yours, you barely even register the slow, romantic tune playing from the orchestra. 

“I bet you have questions.” he whispers, breath fanning your cheeks. 

You take in his tall figure, the rows of medals, gleaming only half as bright as the smile that makes its way onto your face. Hissing, “That doesn’t cover the half of it, King Gojo.”

“I-I apologize. I can’t apologize enough but-”

“Though, I did have a nagging feeling about the fifth time you talked yourself up.” you smirk.

Satoru throws his head back in a loud cackle, echoing through the hushed crowds - no doubt gossiping about this being the Northern king, that fearful beast that ruled over the Gojo family. “I know.” His hand comes up momentarily to brush over your sapphire necklace, “And I’ll spend our entire lives making it up to you, flower.”

Goosebumps dance down your arm, your spine, right down to where Satoru held a firm grip on your hip. You two waltz around the edge of the dance floor, perfectly in time. Through the crowd of grumbling lords, the orchestra, past the table of foods.

“And exactly how long would the rest of our lives be, Satoru?”

Slowing right in front of that huge, reflective wall. 

You couldn’t see his eyes, but his biting gaze was all you could feel. 

Lingering on the blue pendant nestled at your chest, the everlasting wild rose tucked behind your ear, the mirror to your right - where the twin image of you shone. Powerful, gorgeous, everything that a monster like him could never have because he wasn’t standing there right next to you. His kind never could. 

In the back of your mind, you registered collective gasps sounding all around you - the rest of the ball attendees that’d also taken note of the lack of Satoru’s reflection. But your eyes stay locked on him. 

A thumb hooks under his blindfold, and he grimaces. “You really were onto me, huh, flower?”

Tugging. 

Your fingers tighten around his, unable to let the most fearsome of creatures escape from your grasp. “You must’ve been onto me, too, Satoru.”

Pulling. 

All you see is a flash of a regal nose bridge, and the flutter of thick white lashes - before every single chandelier in the ballroom snuffs out at once. Cloaking the room in unnatural darkness, it sends every single knight and noble into a frenzy. 

And then, he opens his eyes. 

“IT’S HIM-”

“A body! A BODY FOUND IN THE ROYAL GUEST SUITE–

“VAMPIRE! STAY BACK-“

Oh, it’s blue. 

That crystal blue. 

And then it’s black.

---

SLAM!

“If you must kill me.” Satoru’s voice sounds from somewhere above you. You blink away the darkness, feeling your bleary gaze try and adjust to that unfamiliar high ceiling, the outlines of hauntingly beautiful paintings on it. His ragged breaths cut through your thoughts once more, hastily folding your hand to grip your pendant. “If you must kill me, then I prefer you do it with your own hands, princess.”

You can’t tell whose hand is trembling more - yours or his. Distantly, you realize you’re being pushed up against a luxuriously padded wall, one you’d never seen before in your life. 

Where were you?

“The Gojo palace- Please-” he reads your mind, voice breaking at the end of his plea. Gasping - and you can discern two elongated teeth at his canines. Fangs, you realize with a shiver. “You may leave if you want to, you may kill me for what I’ve done. My life is in your hands.”

“Satoru.” you soothe in a hushed voice, despite the way your head was reeling. The Gojo palace? “I won’t kill you.”

“But-”

“Satoru, what does this necklace mean?” You beg, and at this point, you’re not surprised that the necklace is from him - because it was an exact replica of the two burning eyes staring back at you. The only source of light right now, glowing a blue you’d finally found after a lifetime. “Why did you-” you gulp, heart lurching. “Why did you hand me your…life?”

Soft lips play right over your rapid pulse, murmuring into your skin, “S’my soul.” A long, pale index of his plays with the pendant. “The only part of my soul that’s living, gilded into a necklace to be kept in the safest place I know. You.”

“But-” you cry out, trying to get another look at his eyes - but your fiancé only kisses deeper at your neck. Nibbling at the thundering beat just below. “But why did you give it to me?”

“Who else would I give it to, if not for my mate?”

Mates - there were a thousand and one books and official documents detailing everything from a vampire’s killing pattern to the aphrodisiac toxins found in their blood. But the research on a vampire’s mate was far and few between.

Perhaps owing to the lack of willing mates that can come out without persecution, or perhaps due to the vampires’ intense rumored mating rituals. But it didn’t go without its own gossip, you were no stranger to the ladies of the court tittering about how morbidly “romantic” it was that mates were akin to soulmates - how it was an invisible string connecting two people to share a life, a soul. 

A vampire’s one and only mate.

Satoru was pinning you harder to the wall now, his pink tongue darting out to lick over your pulse. The fingers holding onto the necklace were now tilting your chin up at him, “Speak to me, flower.”

“I’m your mate?” you whimper, your lips ghosting over his. Already knowing the answer, but fuck you needed to hear it from him. “What does that mean exactly?”

He lets out a pained grunt, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It means you’re the other half of my soul. My only one, I was born for you.” Pressing a chaste peck on there - and you swear you could feel the nip of two sharp canines against your skin. “The one I’ll fight heaven and hell for, until the very last beat of my cold, dead heart.” Your fingers curl at his shoulders when his mouth moves to the shell of your ear. “The one I’ll kill for, take out every measly scum that thinks they can get with my mate.”

He huffs out a burst of cold laughter when your breath hitches, probably reading over the thoughts running through your mind - Satoru killed them. The guards, Kashimo, Naoya- fuck, maybe even Sukuna. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. 

You shiver, “A-and all the wind? The whispers? I thought it was just you these past week b-but- All my life, that was you?”

You know. You knew. 

Another kiss - this time to the corner of your eye, and Satoru licks a long, content stripe up the big fat tears unwillingly welling up behind your eyes. He groans at the salty taste of you, taking in a long, drawn-out breath. “Yes.”

All it takes is that single word for your entire body to collapse, thankfully onto an awaiting Satoru. He holds your entire body weight with one hand around your waist, the other coming up to swipe his thumb under those tears rolling down your cheeks now. 

He kisses your cheek, “All your life.” The corner of your lips, “And all of mine.” 

Run away run away run away run away-

But you can’t - you don’t want to.

Your lips wobble when he nuzzles down your face, leaving a trail of hot kisses with his cold, cold mouth. “As soon as I learned to use my powers - was just a brat you see - I just had to see my mate. To smell her scent.” He’s inhaling deeply again, hands groping over your engagement gown. “Lo and behold, there was you. A cute lil’ princess around my age, tuckered out and fast asleep.” Lingering at your jaw, the hand tight around your waist pulls you painfully closer. Satoru’s knee wedging itself between your trembling thighs, “Imagine my surprise when she took one look at me and cried. Scared me enough to teleport outta there as soon as you opened that smart mouth, flower.”

And the thought of Satoru - tiny and determined - teleporting halfway across the land only to be yelled at by you has you huffing out a shock of laughter.

“So when I heard through the grapevine about your potential engagement, fuck- I couldn’t have ran out of this palace faster. Was so excited I fuckin’ forgot to teleport, too. Even if you were afraid of the ‘cruel Northern king.’” 

Fuck - that’s right. He must’ve heard your thoughts that time you met him in the library. 

Satoru’s tone drops to a low simper, so close now that you could feel every slight curve of his grin. Every twitch of his fingers sweeping up and down your exposed skin, feeling the delicious thrum of your veins. He could bite you right now - easily.  “And luckily, as I grew up, so did my ability to blend in with the darkness.” Eyes boring into yours, something so vulnerable in them now. “But you found me, you always did.”

“Satoru.” you angle your head upwards. “Kiss me.”

And how could he ever deny you?

You wince at the slight pinch of Satoru’s teeth - his fangs - as he crashes his lips into yours in a greedy kiss. Sliding his tongue over to taste those candied lips he’s been dreaming of for years. 

“Fuck-” he breathes out through his nose, jaw sagging open further to kiss you deeper. “Fuck, princess.”

Strong arms pin you harder against the wall, and you’re blindly reaching out to reciprocate even a fraction of Satoru’s neediness. Just dragging your hips up and down his muscled thighs. Sinful. 

Shit, it was so endearing to him seeing you struggle to touch him this way. And with a flick of a wrist, the candle chandeliers hung high above your heads are lighting up at once. “S’that better, flower?”

It takes every bit of will in you to manage to pull away, yet the thought of seeing Satoru - of really seeing Satoru is what spurs you to break the kiss. Delicate strings of saturated spit snapping in the non-existent air between you two, you take a long look at your new husband.

Fuck, he was so pretty.

You always knew he was. 

But even with his face tilted downwards, within the soft light tinting those snowy strands a sunset yellow - you could make out the pretty pink flush all the way from his glossy, ravaged lips, up, up, up to his delicate cheeks - he looked like the last thing from a monster. 

“No you’re pretty.” he hums, and you’re still not used to him reading your mind. Head nodding downwards, “Just look, grinding on my thigh like such a slut.”

What met you was a dark pool of slick saturating his trousers,  just peeking out over the hem of your dress. It makes you give another lingering, experimental grind.

“Satoru—” you’re letting out a honeyed drag of his name, reveling in the way it makes him swallow heavily. “You can hear my thoughts, right?” Look at me. 

Slowly - but surely - familiar blue meets yours. Half-lidded, pupils blown, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said there were tiny sparks of lightning at the corners of his long white lashes.

You’ve been haunting me my whole life, Toru.

And it was an accident - it really was, your freshly kissed brain too hazy to slur out Satoru’s full name. But the impromptu little nickname has him dragging forwards like he was magnetized. 

A low growl escaping when he’s kissing you again. And again. And again and again and-

“Say it-” Two hands are tugging at those tedious ribbons tying your decadent gown together. Pulling. “Say it again f’me.” Ripping. 

The more his lips are assaulting yours, the more the dress slips further and further down your shoulders. Tattered. The soft satin leaving goosebumps down your spine as it reveals your neckline - all that skin for him to ruin. To mark. 

“Oh-” you’re squealing when one of Satoru’s fangs prick a bit too hard at your lip. Feeling a hot flow of crimson bleed out, the feeling has you so weak. So drunk. “Quite eager, aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea.” he groans again. Soft tongue moving from swirling around your own to lazily pool your blood on it. And you can’t imagine what about the metallic taste would be so euphoric, but he’s letting out his loudest drag of your name yet. Eyes rolling to the back of his head like he’s just tasted a personal slice of heaven. “Fuck- fuck you have no idea.”

You moan into the kiss when he bites down again on your already-bruised lower lip, “I’ve always wanted to do this-” Slow, slow hands kneading up your waist, at a dizzying tempo matching his mouth down your jaw, your neck. Hips bucking, you feel the outline of something so hard between his legs. “-to kiss you. To-” Tethering on the sensitive area of your pulse, “-bite.”

In a split-second, you’re sinking down into plush silk sheets, swallowing you whole in a king-sized bed you didn’t even realize was in the room before. 

“S-Satoru, did you teleport us again?” you gasp, eyes adjusting to the intricate paintings on the ceiling that you hadn’t gotten to admire before. Of white-haired youths and roses, of cold, dark palaces and- and you. 

You - when you were younger, sleeping peacefully while a little boy watches intrigued from the corner. You - passed out in the library after a long night of reading, two pale hands wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You - your brows furrowed, head cocked while you pushed past nobles to search for that flash of his blue. You, you, you.

You. 

“I can hear the gears in that pretty head turning.” Satoru grins, still kissing you in a languid graze of lips. “And as much as I love it when you hah- admire my lonely paintings, I’d rather you pay attention to-” A low groan curdles at the back of his throat when he’s grinding his massive clothed erection against the syrupy spot at your core. “-me.”

There’s a dark little huff of laughter and with one last bite at the side of your neck, Satoru’s unapologetically tearing right through the middle of your gown. 

And you know it’s made with the finest fabrics the country has to offer, you know that no normal man should be able to even rip a tiny shred through your dress - but Satoru is no ordinary man.

Your spike of disappointment is quickly overshadowed by cold breath hovering over your exposed tits. “Oh, so perfect f’me.” he’s groaning, deep and primal. Biting down on your hardened nipple, “Ya think those uptight elders your court has- ah, had would appreciate me desecrating their precious princess before marriage?”

Through gasps, you peek down at his wicked tongue, swirling around the sensitive spots of your areola. “Who- who gives a shit.”

“So feisty.” The peaks of your tits are left coated in him as Satoru pulls away. “So addictive.” Pinching your soft flesh between his teeth - just hard enough that you worry he’s out to draw blood again. “So- so-” 

Words are failing Satoru’s sharp mouth as he kisses his way down your body. The valley of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

Down, down, down-

“Fuck, Satoru-” you’re hissing when he easily pulls the pathetic remains of your dress off and onto the floor. The rest of your inner skirts easily following afterwards. “Are you gonna…”

“M’afraid not.” he licks sloppy circles at the skin of your thighs. Tasting, nipping, leaving little marks with his fangs for later. Sloppily soothing his tongue over the tiny droplets of blood beading from the bites, he murmurs stubbornly, “Not until you address me correctly.”

Hesitantly, you reach out a limp hand to thread through his dampening white tresses. Tugging softly to lock those devouring blue eyes with yours, “Please, Toru?”

You get absolutely no warning when he kisses right through that flimsy excuse of your drenched panties to slide his tongue up and down your sopping wet slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you moan when he’s just dipping the very tip barely past your puffy folds. The fabric of your underwear still sticking to you, “Stop being such a tease, goddammit ngh-”

“Why?” Of course, he toys with your patience even now, addicted to those needy whines falling from your lips. “I jus’ wanna play with my princess’s pretty pussy. What am I getting out of it?” 

You smirk, not even having to move your pretty mouth to know you had him in the palm of your hand already. I’d be your mate for life. 

It’s all you can do to watch with satisfaction as the great Gojo Satoru gasps - gasps. Slick-glossed lips falling into a soft oh! Hazy eyes widening almost-comically, and at full heady attention while he takes a few seconds to mull over your words. 

RIP!

In an instant, your soaked underwear is ripped clean off to bare your dripping cunt for him, wrapped tightly around Satoru’s fingers and disappearing down below to where your imagination couldn’t handle. 

“Oh, such a pretty pussy.” he coos, thumbing apart your puffy folds to admire your lewdly winking cunt. Glistening and so so needy, you jolt when he bullies two long fingers past your sloppy entrance. With your greedy hole swallowing every slender inch of Satoru’s fingers easily, “So needy too. This all f’me?”

As if to prove his point, his pink lips wrap around your throbbing clit, grinding his tongue over the ravaged tip. The harsh texture of his tastebuds rolling over every inch of you he could reach.

“Y-yes-” you squeal, hips bucking down mindlessly to try and match his relentless tempo. “S’only for you.”

“Tha’s what I love to hear-” Satoru’s cheeks hollow when he sucks on your sensitive little nub - hard. “Sweeter than I even imagined, shit-”

Every pump of his merciless fingers in and out of your cunt drags along your gummy walls. Deftly curling to prey at those hidden sweet spots of yours he just knew would wrench out such throaty moans from you - and fuck, Satoru thinks- no, he knows that the sound is is favorite song. 

“You’re makin’ me- hah making me fall in love all over again.” he gruffs out into your cunt. The pads of his fingers pressing into the cushiony ends of your pussy. “Because look how messy you are- how loud.”

You didn’t know if he had mind-control powers on top of mind-reading, because it’s as if you’re on auto-pilot when your lolling head is whirling down to look at the absolute sin made of you below. Satoru - running his mouth a mile a minute to send white-hot vibrations along your clit. His milky fingers buried knuckle-deep to stretch out your poor cunt. Your sweet sweet juices drooling all over them in such an obscene sheen down his palm, his wrist. 

He whines, “Makin’ me wanna-” You jolt when he’s biting down so dangerously around your clit. “Wanna-”

Satoru doesn’t end up finishing his sentence - and he doesn’t have to. 

Because he’s pausing his make-out with your clit to spit once. Twice. A thick thumb swiping at the intentional splatter of saliva marking your skin, before surging forwards even deeper - you didn’t even think that was possible. But Satoru has the tip of his nose rubbing methodical circles against your clit, jaw grinding at the base of your pussy, tongue flattening out your pussy lips.

Messy. Harsh. 

“Oh- oh my god, Toru-” you’re keening at the feeling of his wet muscle trying to squeeze in past the fingers still continuing their assault on your entrance. “It- it won’t fit–”

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, princess.” he hushes, letting another round glob of spit wet your clingy pussy. “You can take it. You will - otherwise how are you gonna take your husband, hm?”

That little comment has connotations that make your plushy walls clamp down vice-like around his fingers - his tongue. And you’re angling your head just right, blinking away the lustful haze in your eyes to spy down at the rapid, jerky movements of his other hand. Devouring gaze dropping down to-

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

It was difficult to even look at the sight below - your panties, soaked and completely see-through with slick and precum, wrapped prettily around what you could make out to be Satoru’s aching cock. Standing proud, twitching wildly with every drag of his fist up and down his glistening length. 

“Fuck-” he groans, taking the opportunity to devilishly slip his tongue past your feeble entrance. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- y’like this, huh?” Drawled out little praises now muffled as he fucks you on his tongue the way he wished he could with his cock. In and out in and out in and out. Pulling back to eye your gaping hole, “I can feel y’getting wetter for me is it because-” Before surging back forwards, as if he’s addicted. “Because-” Again.“Fuck don’t clench around me that way. Was hard enough trying not to fuck you stupid right there in the middle of the ballroom.” 

You whine, tears flowing down freely at the sheer pleasure at this point. “Y-you-” you gasp, your five fingers splaying out over Satoru’s head. Pushing even harsher, “You hngh- talk too much- m’so close-”

Partially because you really needed those pretty lips back at your heated core, partially because every word tumbling from his mouth had you throbbing embarrassingly, your slick spreading a glossy sheen on the sheets underneath you. 

“Oh yeah? Heh, anything for you, flower.” Satoru grins such a sly, sultry grin and you feel it against one set of your swollen lips. “Absolutely anything.”

In and out in and out. He has his brows furrowed now, concentrated on having every flick and divot of movement pushing you closer and closer towards the edge. Faster. Sloppier. You have half the mind to wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether Satoru’s tongue wasn’t cramping up from how fast he was going, whether his fingers weren’t tired already.

Out of the corner of your spotty vision, you can see those stuttering squeezes of Satoru’s hand speed up. Trying desperately to match each bullying push of his tongue and his fingers into your overstuffed pussy. 

The thought makes you whine, “Oh my god- Toru, m’gonna cum.” And shit, at this point it’s too much. You couldn’t think - you couldn’t even breathe. “M’so close please.” Barely able to even register anything but Satoru Satoru Satoru-

It’s why you don’t even realize at first when you’re finally cumming - Satoru does, though. He feels it in the way your heavenly walls are closing down on his fingers, clenching around him so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your orgasm. Waves of electric pleasure crashing into you and you think you’re drowning.

“Tha’s it.” he rasps. “Cum f’me like that, tha’s it- thaaat’s it, such a good lil’ wife- a perfect mate.” 

The fingers stuffed deep inside your pussy are being pulled out in a flash - not letting you waste a moment of your heady high before he’s toying ravenously with your swollen clit. Pinching, and rolling between two soft fingers. 

“O-oh fuck, m’-cumming? M’cumming m’cumming-” you moan deliriously, mind just now catching up. Your hips drag your sloppy pussy all over Satoru’s pretty face. Just drenching his noble features with your gushing mess. “Feels too ah- good, Toru.”

And he takes it like it’s everything he needs - everything he’s ever wanted. 

Jaw falling slack to let your juices slide down his throat, tongue lolling out flick your spasming cunt through your high. Unstopping. Unwavering. 

Even when your vision stops tingeing with black at the edges, even when you think you’re sane enough to form a coherent thought. Even when your climax is bating enough that every flick of Satoru’s tongue only sends almost painful thrums of pleasure down your spine.

“W-wait m’done-” you sob, tasting the salty stream of tears splashing down your face now. “S’too sensitive- ngh-”

When he doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon, you try again - this time thinking the embarrassing thought out loud. I…I really want you inside me now, Toru. Please?

And he pauses - jolting, as if some dark, primal part of him had just been called back to life. Tongue still hot on your cunt, fist still greedy around his rock-hard shaft. 

“F-fuck you’re gonna be the death of me, flower.”

And before, you couldn’t get enough of those striking blue eyes, but now you couldn’t escape them.

With inhuman speed, he’s shuffling up the soaked sheets. “An absolute fuckin-” Slick-glossed lips meet yours, smearing along the combination of juices till the lower half of your face was as dripping wet as Satoru’s. “-minx, y’know that?”

“Wh-what can I say?” you tilt your head with a smirk, lips a bit too loose than you’d like - but it didn’t matter anyway, he was in your thoughts. Your mind. “I’m your mate, after all.”

He falls back onto his knees at that sinful little sentence of yours, throwing his head back in a guttural groan. “Fuck- you’re mine alright. See what you hah- do to me? See how this is all your fault?” 

If Satoru expected an answer, then he doesn’t receive it. Because every snippy little retort on the tip of your tongue melts when you get a long, hard look at the angry shaft in his hand. So red and angry. Thick enough that you felt your cunt quiver already.

Delicate with prominent veins that glistened and throbbed down his long, long length with each slew of his vigorous fist. And his tip- fuck, blushed your favorite shade of weepy pink, slobbering a sheen of precum all down his wrist, his tufts of cloudy white. 

And you realize with a jolt that he still had your panties wrapped around him - looking so tiny around Satoru’s massive cock. 

Wordlessly, your hand replaces his.

“W-woah- fuck-” His toned waist flexes with the effort to fuck up into the soft cushion of your palm. “How the- ngh how the fuck does your fuckin’ hand feel this good?”

“You’re so big- fuck, don’t know how I’d- Wait you never imagined this?” you bat your eyes up with faux innocence. A thumb gliding over that deep divot on the very tip of his fat head. “Because I sure have, Toru.” 

Satoru’s heavy balls smack against your arm when he shuffles down his pants even further, now fully letting you go ahead with your agonizing torture. “Shit-” he yelps, eyes screwing shut at the image. “Don’t- don’t say that, holy shit.”

You toy with your scrap of panties, massaging every ridge and curve with it. Just dragging your hand up and down. “Would you rather I think it instead?”

Within milliseconds, two sharp fangs are poised right above your rapid pulse, a hand around your throat. “No- no no no no-” Satoru gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his rope. And it takes him a few blinks to realize his position, immediately moving his lips up to nip at your jaw. “Fuckin’ no.” Hard enough that another red pearl of blood drips out, instantly being sucked up greedily by your fiancé. “Gonna make me lose it before I-I ngh-”

With a pained growl, he suddenly has you sitting so prettily on his muscular lap. Your legs splayed out like such a slut, needy cunt slobbering all over where you were sat right on his demanding erection. 

By the time you’re realizing your helpless position, it’s too late - and Satoru’s already shrugging off the rest of his pants. Buttons hitting the floor when he just tears his flowing dress shirt off. 

“Sh-show off.” you breathe, hands mapping out every dip and curve of the plane of defined muscles displayed before you. So mouthwatering. 

“Can tell that you- ngh think m’mouthwatering, flower.” he grins. One hand kneading and groping the flesh of your ass to steady your drooling cunt to kiss at his thick tip. The other keeping one of your palms stuck to his washboard abs, up, up, up to press at his sculpted left pec. “N’ I know m’heart’s not beating, but I’m much the same. Very- much the- same.”

And Satoru’s spent years waiting, yearning - so he doesn’t waste even a second more when stuffing his cock inside your snug cunt. 

“O-oh. Satoru- Satoru please oh-”

The stretch - fuck, the stretch. The stretch is so much that it feels like you’re being split apart. Just the bare tip of his fat cock being bullied in short, determined half-thrusts. 

And it takes only one, lucky collision into the bullseye of your g-spot and you’re already falling apart. 

“Wait- wait wait wait m’gonna-” you gasp, your nails running down his broad, milky back in jagged red lines when you’re cumming once more. Toes curling, hips convulsing wildly on top of a smug Satoru. “Oh my god, ngh- what’ve you done to me, Toru?”

“Now, let me ngh- let me tell you a little secret, hah- princess.” His hand comes up to cup your jaw, gifting a sweet kiss on your swollen lips. “The best thing about mates?” Sharp fangs catch onto your delicate skin, “They feel sex on a whole other level.”

And then he’s bringing down both hands to spread apart the globes of your ass. Your puffy folds are stretched to their limits when he thrusts up once. Muscled thighs flexing underneath yours. Harsh. 

Ignoring your pleading keens and the slight resistance at the intrusion of his intimidating size, “Hold on, princess- hold- fuuuuck.” Lips latch onto yours, drinking up every heady whine when your poor cunt is being fed every inch by fucking inch. “You’re taking me so well.”

And that you were - your pussy lips bulging and struggling to accommodate Satoru’s monstrous size, but still taking him in so greedily. 

“There we go.” he grunts out, punctuated with heavy rams of hips. Up, up, up until you could feel Satoru’s sobbing tip graze against your cervix - your lungs. “Theeere we fuckin’-” Pushing and pushing until there was no more, until your neglected clit was scratching against his snowy pubic hair. Ass coming to rest at his twitching balls. “-go.”

“You’re in so deep-” you’re blabbering, cockdrunk already. The last few dredges of your high still not wearing off, it takes you a few seconds of Satoru still trying to squeeze his cock even deeper to manage to raise a hand about midway up your stomach. Feeling for that vertical bulge that was him, “-can feel you right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

And like he was testing your theory, Satoru fucks up into your gummy hole in another bullying slam. Watching in wonder at the way that little divot in your stomach crashes around the same spongy cervix he was. 

“Fuck- you’re right.” he hisses. Addicted now. Immediately rocking into you with reeling, long rolls of his hips. “You’re so- fuckin’ right.”

You can’t find the energy in yourself to even yelp in surprise when Satoru immediately changes your positions so that you’re now laying fucked-out on the mattress. His domineering hips pinning you down to use you like some little cocksleeve. 

“God-” he pants into your open mouth, tongue swirling with your weighty one. “God- fuck fuck fuck if heaven is real then this is it.” Each little profanity is decorated with a smoldering crash of his tip into your sweet spot. “You’re the heaven I don’t ngh- deserve, flower.”

That neat bitemark on your thigh is being jostled with the amount of ragged movement, and you wince with pain when it starts flowing again. 

“Oh- oh.” 

Satoru’s like a predator that has cornered his prey, and is spending hours tediously unraveling every single bit of you. 

Sliding two smooth palms underneath your legs, they’re urgently thrown over his large shoulders to fold you down, down, down into the meanest mating press you think you could handle - handle without fucking breaking, that is. 

“So good t’me.” he breathes, long tongue easily licking up that sweet nectar of your blood. “Y’know your cute lil’ brain s’too scrambled to even read right now.”

“H-how can I think when you’re ah! Like- like this, Toru?”

The sudden change in angle makes you scream. It makes you clamor for the headboard, the sheets, your husband when that obscenely perfect upwards curve of his dick is massaging every nook and cranny of your cunt. 

“Yeah? Feels good? Now now- don’t run- away” he’s dragging you down those drenched sheets by the legs like some ragdoll, stuffing you more and more with his painful cock. Fucking you so relentless, like he was trying to worship every little hidden sweet spot inside your dripping cunt. “Say it- no no no, not in your head. Say it.”

And you do - a little over fifteen times when his thick hilt pecks your pussy lips over and over with each thrust when Satoru bottoms out, hitting all the way into the back of your cunt - your cervix, your g-spot - like he couldn’t decide which one to bruise more. 

“S’too good-” you’re gasping. Your overstimulated pussy being molded like clay to the girthy shaft kissing down your cunt. Stretching out your elastic walls until you could almost feel them take shape to his swollen cock. Feel every sensitive spot inside you being overstimulated at once with every burning massage against them. “You’re fuckin’ me way too- too good- ngh- can’t even think.”

But that wasn’t enough for him.

Dipping a thumb down to circle around your clit, white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine when he lets out a deep rumble, “Think I fell in love with you when I- fuck, right then and there when I first- hah saw you all those years back.” speeding up with the sloppy staccato of his rude cock. Satoru’s words slurring now, messed up and half-prepared like the accelerating half-thrusts being bestowed upon your ravaged cunt. Like he couldn’t bear to pull out completely. “The first time you saw me, you were so afraid. Look at you- fuck, jus’ look at you now, princess.”

Each word is like a brand onto your sticky skin, accompanied by harsh smacks of Satoru’s balls against your ass, his sharp hip bones digging into your thighs. Him.

“Toru–” is all you can manage to whine out, a limp hand pulling his face closer to yours. You’re jumping with each swipe at your poor clit. “Toru m’here.”

“And- and yet-” he’s still blabbering, still pussydrunk while he fucks you so menacingly. Fingers sopping wet with their assault on your sensitive nub, “And yet I just- fuck-” He cuts himself off to give your messy hole another thick stream of spit. Coating his long, raw shaft - rubbed red with the way your gripping walls were massaging him so right - making it easier to slide in and out. “And yet, I just had to see you, to see the gorgeous mate I don’t deserve. I couldn’t live without you.”

A single overstimulated tear glistens a track down Satoru’s pretty face - one you kiss away as quickly as it appeared. Nudging open those teary, blue gaze to bore down on you. 

Oh, he looked an absolute wreck - white hair mussed up, stray strands sticking to his forehead. Glossy lips parted, drool pooling at the corner, broken grunts leaving him with each smash of his tip back into your cunt. So blissed out. 

Jolting at your eyes on him, Satoru feels his balls tighten so painfully. Abs burning when his pace stutters with need. 

“You’re haunting me, just as much as I was haunting you, Toru.”

The candles go out. Instantly. 

And shit you’re feeling it first when when hé’s cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Flashes of white startling behind his closed, glassy eyes. “Shit- shit shit shit shit-” Hairs on your body raising as Satoru’s fingers draw circles on your clit so aggressively. Dragging out your high. Forcing it. “Take it- take it all, my flower. Let me paint this pretty pussy all white.” Violent, almost.

So, really, it makes sense that your third orgasm of the night was the same. 

Just shivering, sinful tingles running from your overstimulated mind right down to where Satoru was stuffing thick white ropes of potent seed deeper and deeper down your tight channel. 

Overspilling with each calculated ram, his cum is oozing out of the corners of your puffy lips with each furious clench of his balls. Too much. 

And it’s all you can do to sit there and take it, feeling the sloppy dredges of cum make a mess slobbering down your thighs and his. Starting up blearily at the blurry paintings on the ceilings. The paintings of you - of a still Satoru that looked down at you with only half as much intensity and pure swirling emotion as he was right now.

Something that couldn’t be painted - but would make such a pretty picture, when his fangs bite into that racing junction at your neck.

You scream a soundless scream of his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head as something warm fills your entire body. 

Leaving your words unheard, your ravaged hole loose to let out slobbering squelches of Satoru’s cum. Blood racing and flowing right into Satoru’s greedy mouth. 

“Princess-” he gulps. Tongue licking up every crimson bead his crazed eyes could spot, body aching when he dares pull away from that heavenly taste. More. “Princess princess princess- you- hngh you’re mine. All mine now.”

And he’s letting out more thick globs of cum straight into your waiting cunt. Body bowing even harder to let it seep into your elastic walls, your womb. So much more than you can take and he just keeps giving. 

It seems like forever when Satoru finally pulls away - and within the glowing blue of his eyes, you can see the red staining his lips, dripping down those fangs, his chin. Staining the silk sheets below - staining you with so much more. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching up to catch his lips in a bloodied kiss. Your own elongated canines catching amateurishly on his lips. 

Satoru hisses - but he likes it. And you can tell. 

You can read every single hypnotizing thought whirling behind those crystal blue eyes - how he wants to ravish you again, how he wants to worship you. To make you his all over, to have you make him yours. The thought makes you smile as you whisper, “I’m onto you, Toru.”

“You’re onto me, flower.” Catching your lips in a sweet, sweet red kiss. “Forever.”

A/N. This was SOOO fun to write omg y’all have no idea. If you made it this far then you get a sloppy smooch from me mwahhhh.

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[ichorai]

wool ; coriolanus snow.

pairing ; young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; when you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; mild fluff/angst, slightly suggestive

warnings / includes ; set before events of tbosas so no actual spoilers, making out, clemensia appearance, mentions of other characters, coryo's paranoia, he's not exactly toxic yet but the seeds are very much planted, i tried to keep him in character as best i could, let's pretend the academy also serves dinner

a/n ; this man has consumed me body and soul. this fic was inspired by the song wool by flatland cavalry on the movie soundtrack! let me know if you guys would like a second part :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Coriolanus Snow was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He bore an aristocratic last name—yet you noticed that his dress shirt’s buttons seemed to be various different shades of black and slightly misshapen. His voice, so sweetly saccharine, charming, seductive—would whisper falsities like it was second nature. He would often claim that he wasn’t hungry, but you’d catch the longing glint in his pale irises as he eyed the steaming bread rolls Sejanus slathered with generous helpings of butter. 

Control. That was all he needed. 

It crumbled, ever so slightly, when you nudged your slice of apple pie in his direction. His eye twitched, and you pursed your lips, pulling your plate back to you. You ate quietly, and Coryo stared at you all the while, as if he were mentally dissecting your mind—studying you. 

You knew. It was all too clear, even if he wouldn’t tell you. And if he wouldn’t tell his closest friend—or, the closest thing he had to a friend, the two of you certainly did things that friends wouldn’t do—he most definitely wouldn’t let it slip that he was financially strapped to anyone else.

That same day, he met you in the back of the library. The two of you were supposed to be studying history—Professor Demigloss was one of the nicer teachers at the academy, but that didn’t mean he was any less strict with grades. And neither you nor Coryo could afford slipping now. Not if you both wanted to get into university. Being on top meant that there was only greater distance to fall.

But there were… distractions.

Mainly, his foot knocking against yours under the table. Your hand over his jostling knee. His teeth digging into his bottom lip. When you shifted so that your thighs brushed against his, the books spread out over the table were entirely forgotten.

He pushed you against the bookshelves a mere second later, the wood digging into your back uncomfortably, and kissed you until you grew dizzy. You were a welcome distraction—he could taste the apples on your tongue. The way you snaked your arms around his neck, toying with his pale blonde curls, pulling him closer until his body slotted against yours just perfectly—clicking into place like a pair of magnets facing opposite directions. It was desperate and heavy and he could only barely pull away to inhale sharply before cradling the base of your head to tilt your jaw back and kiss you even harder. Coryo swallowed any muffled whimpers that slipped from you when his free hand traveled lower.

Lower, lower, dangerously low—

When Clemensia’s voice echoed through the library in search of her lab partner, the two of you sprang apart, gasping for air.

She rounded the bend, and her dark eyes landed on the two of you. Keen, observant, narrowed. Coriolanus was flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, chest rising and falling erratically. You were looking anywhere but the two of them, smoothing out your clothes and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Oh! I guess I’ll just have to find another time to bother you, Coriolanus,” she tittered, sickly sweet. She tilted her head with a tempered smile. “What’re you guys studying?”

Snow rolled his eyes in exasperation. “History,” he said. Curt, simple.

“Right.” She eyed you curiously. When she spoke again, it was directed more to you than him, sounding uncharacteristically void of frigid scorn. “I’d be careful if I were you. You sure he’s not just sleeping with you because you’re the top of the class?”

You stiffened, and Coryo bristled. 

“I’ll be fine, Clem. See you tomorrow.” 

There was another beat of terse silence. Her eyes darted warily between the two of you, and she whisked away in a flutter of red and black.

You blew out a breath. Your mouth tingled with the phantom memory of his lips planted over yours, and your cheeks flushed with heat. The two of you sat back down, both quiet. You worked in fluid tandem with each other, as you always did. His hands kept to himself this time. 

“I’m not using you,” he whispered, eventually. “It’s not like that.”

“I know,” you replied hesitantly, testing the waters. “It’s not like you’d need to. Your grades are just fine as is.”

The two of you kept working until your fingers cramped with overuse and his head pulsed with the beginnings of a migraine. 

“Dinner?” you asked once the clock struck six, nudging him. “I think they’ll be serving mashed potatoes today.”

His stomach clenched at the thought of warm food. Control.

“Sure,” he replied coolly, flicking his books closed and gathering up all the papers to stuff into his bag. “I’m sick of mashed potatoes, though.”

You shot him an incredulous smile, brows quirking up. He was lying, but you didn’t know. “Not even when it’s seasoned with roasted garlic? A dash of the freshest of herbs?”

The blue of his eyes gleamed when they bore into yours. “Not even then.”

“You’re a strange man, Coriolanus Snow.” Your lips twisted downward, but it was more of a smile than a frown. When your eyes darted below to glance at his school uniform, you couldn’t help but notice the unironed creases in the carmine fabric. One of the buttons—the very top one—was oddly shaped and a different color from all the rest. It reminded you of his dress shirt. You quite liked that dress shirt. He looked handsome in it, but you chalked it up to his uncanny ability to look handsome in just about anything.

Your head tilted to the side, molten eyes fixed on the button. You knew. He knew that you knew. Panic seized in his chest, an irrational clawing sensation searing within his lungs. Would you tell the rest of the class? What would you say to them? That he was living as filthily as a District boy? That he skipped meals because he couldn’t afford them? That his cousin mended his clothes for him?

But your frown-smile deepened. Fondness stained your expression, clear as day. Coriolanus found himself surprised, as he often did around you. 

“I love your buttons, by the way,” you mumbled, reaching out to trace it with a finger. He held his breath on instinct. “Is it a stylistic choice? Having them all irregular like this?”

Stylistic. Coriolanus almost laughed.

“Mhm. It’ll be in fashion one day. I’m just ahead of the trends,” he murmured charmingly. A bluff.

When you laughed, airy and light and reminiscent to that of wind chimes, Coryo wished he could bottle up the sound and keep it as his, only his. 

“Maybe I’ll start wearing mismatched buttons now, too. Rebel against uniformity.” You stood up from your chair as you spoke, not catching the way Coriolanus’ expression faltered momentarily with your last three words. It was a joke, he had to remind himself. Just a joke. “Come on. Let’s go have dinner. I’m starving.”

He jerkily stood up. Grabbed your hand just because he could, fingers folding over your wrist. He could feel your pulse, thumping quicker and quicker. You regarded him curiously. Snow’s remaining spindly hand cradled your face and he stepped closer, intuitive eyes roaming over your face, wondering just how much of you was real. How much of you was lying, just as he was?

His lips fell over yours again. This time, the kiss was sweeter. Slower, more languid. His nose brushed over your cheekbone, warm to the touch. You hummed pleasantly against him, before placing a hand flat over his chest—over the crooked button—and pulled away with a dazed smile. It felt dangerously good that you hadn’t tugged your hand out of his grasp yet. His grip tightened in a near possessive manner.

As the two of you began walking out of the library, Coriolanus couldn’t help but think back to your hyperbole—about how far from starving you truly were. You wouldn’t ever know, not when your family was the very epitome of Capitol wealth. But he was glad he wasn’t the only one lying, for once, even if your lie was merely an inflation of the truth. 

After dinner, Coryo worked off the top button of his uniform with repeated tugs to the threads, pulling apart Tigris’ handiwork. He slid it over the table to you, watching the way your countenance softened in endearment. He kissed you again in the dark hallways outside the cafeteria, finding it difficult to get your lips to melt away from your tightly-stretched grin.

He walked home with a mirroring smile and a missing button that night. One less piece of the wolf’s sheeply clothes.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Alexander the Great w/ Soldier's Pregnant Widow!Reader

��� 📜 — lady l: this is a commission that I was very happy to do! I'm sorry for the delay, I confess that I had forgotten this in my drafts and only remembered it after reading your messagem, anon! I hope you enjoy it and, as requested, it is more based on Alexander's feelings for the Reader. Forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: mention of death, mourning. pregnancy and fluff.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

You were the wife of one of Alexander's cavalry soldiers who, unlike many other soldiers' wives, decided to accompany him to war. You loved your husband deeply and did not want to be separated from him.

Your husband also loved you deeply. He wasn't a general or a high-ranking officer, but your husband tried to make you as comfortable as possible in this violent environment. He was loyal to you, something rare but one you appreciated. You loved him with everything in you.

Until the day you lost him. During the Battle of Granicus, your husband died in battle and your world collapsed. You had lost the man you loved and it felt like an endless road. Alexander, being the beloved King that he was, buried the dead soldiers with the necessary honors and spoke to the wives present in the camp. And one of them was you.

Alexander was immediately enchanted by you. He was surprised at how you handled your grief, clearly you loved your husband very much and the pain of the loss you felt captivated him. He didn't take long to approach you subtly at first.

Alexander was kind and protective, offering his condolences and staying by your side. His words were kind and his discreet smiles were reserved just for you. More observant people didn't take long to notice the King's interest in you, but they never dared to say anything, not when they knew his temperament.

You found yourself lost in a sea of pain and sadness, unable to find comfort in anything around you. Alexander's comforting presence was like an anchor in the midst of the storm, offering support and compassion in such a dark time. He understood your pain as he had also lost soldiers close to him.

Alexander felt compelled to protect and care for you, not only out of gratitude for your husband's sacrifice, but also because he genuinely cared for you. His discreet smiles and kind gestures were an attempt to ease your pain, to be a ray of light amid the darkness you faced.

Although you fought your feelings, you found yourself enjoying the King's presence. But you soon discovered that you were pregnant by your late husband and you decided to focus on honoring your husband's memory and focusing on the baby growing inside you.

Alexander didn't like it at all when you tried to move away from him but he soon understood why. He wasn't angry or anything, but surprised and slightly bothered. You would have a child, something he wanted, but it wouldn't be with him. He couldn't blame you, though, it wasn't your fault.

As time passed, your belly grew and the pain of loss lessened, you found yourself more and more involved in the camp's activities, keeping yourself busy to keep away the thoughts that haunted you at night. And you found yourself increasingly close to Alexander, who made his feelings for you very clear.

He respected the fact that you weren't ready to get married due to the fact that you were pregnant, he could wait until the baby was born. But he wasn't far from you, spending his free time by your side while also taking care of you. You owned your own tent and personal effects, along with those of your late husband.

In time, your husband's child was born, and you held it in your arms with love and sadness. It was a part of him you would carry forever, a living reminder of the man you loved so much. Alexander was present and he acted as if your child were his. He didn't even like it when people mentioned it wasn't his.

You were his and your baby was his too. Alexander was skeptical about it at first but he warmed up to the idea. The mourning period is over and your child has been born, now it is time for you to become his wife and have children of his own.

[kodasmind]

Unexpected Allies pt 2

The Fight for Respect

**Rhea Ripley x Reader x Damian Priest**

The arena was electric with excitement as Damian Priest stepped into the ring for his match against Carlisto. The crowd roared as the bell rang, signaling the start of the bout. Damian and Carlisto exchanged powerful blows, their movements swift and precise. After a grueling back-and-forth, Damian managed to land his finishing move, securing the pinfall victory.

The crowd erupted into cheers as Damian stood tall, raising his arms in celebration. He soaked in the adulation, his focus momentarily on the audience and the adrenaline coursing through him. However, the mood in the arena quickly shifted as JD McDonagh, Finn Bálor, Liv Morgan, and Dominik Mysterio stormed down the ramp, their expressions filled with malice.

The crowd’s cheers turned into a chorus of boos as JD, Finn, Liv, and Dom surrounded the ring. Without hesitation, they attacked Damian, who was still celebrating his hard-fought win. Finn and JD pummeled Damian, while Liv and Dom joined in, their assault merciless and coordinated.

From the backstage area, you and Rhea Ripley watched the scene unfold on a monitor. Without a second thought, you both bolted towards the ring, determined to help Damian. As you reached the ring, the chaotic scene grew even more intense.

Liv had just delivered a brutal kick to Damian’s ribs when you and Rhea slid under the ropes. You immediately engaged Liv, tackling her and pulling her away from Damian. Rhea, eyes blazing with anger, made a beeline for Dom and JD.

Rhea’s fury was palpable as she charged at Dom. Dom barely had time to react as Rhea grabbed him, lifting him with ease. She was about to deliver a Riptide, her signature move, when Liv, having recovered from your earlier attack, rushed to Dom’s aid. Liv managed to intercept Rhea, shoving her aside and causing Rhea to lose her grip on Dom.

“Stay away from him!” Liv shouted as she squared off against Rhea, the two women glaring at each other.

You, meanwhile, were locked in a fierce struggle with Liv, keeping her occupied and preventing her from interfering further. The crowd's cheers were a mix of support for Damian and excitement over the unexpected melee.

Damian, using the chaos to his advantage, managed to push JD and Finn off him. He staggered to his feet, clearly exhausted but determined. With a furious look, he joined the fray, aiding you and Rhea against the combined forces of Dom, Liv, JD, and Finn.

Rhea and you worked together with a fierce intensity, each move calculated to take down the attacking group. Rhea delivered a series of powerful strikes, pushing Dom and Finn back. You used your agility to keep Liv and JD at bay, your focus sharp as you fought alongside Rhea.

Despite the odds, the combined effort of you, Rhea, and Damian began to turn the tide. JD and Finn, realizing they were outnumbered and overpowered, started to retreat. Dom and Liv, caught off guard by the unexpected alliance, followed suit, scrambling up the ramp to escape the chaos.

As the attackers fled, you and Rhea stood alongside Damian in the center of the ring. Damian, breathing heavily but clearly relieved, glanced at both of you with gratitude.

“Thanks for the help,” Damian said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “I didn’t expect the cavalry to show up.”

Rhea, still catching her breath, gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Just doing what needed to be done. We’re not letting them get away with this.”

You met Damian’s gaze, your expression resolute. “Consider it a temporary truce. Next time, we might be on opposite sides again.”

Damian gave a small smile, clearly appreciative of the support. “Got it. Let’s take this victory for now.”

As the arena’s lights dimmed and the crowd's cheers began to settle, you, Rhea, and Damian stood together in the ring. The unexpected alliance, forged in the heat of battle, had made a powerful statement. Despite the tensions that still lingered, the night had proven that sometimes, even the most unlikely allies could come together in the face of adversity.

[aventurineswife]

Mini troublemakers!

Summary: When each Stellaron Hunter encounters a robot reader with the unique ability to create adorable, miniature replicas of themselves, their reactions reveal hidden facets of their personalities.

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Firefly x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Blade x Reader, Robot!Reader, Platonic Relationships, Mini Robots, Friendship, Slice of Life, Fluff and Light Humor, Bittersweet Moments.

A/N: 🥺💖THIS IS SO CUTE!!

Tag (as I can't answer your request so I have to resort on tagging you instead): @lavenderlovekakavasha

Kafka

Kafka observed with an intrigued smile as you, the robot, tinkered with a miniature version of yourself. A tiny, whirring replica with shiny eyes turned and beamed up at her. "A little army of yourself, hmm?" she mused, her smooth voice drifting in a teasing tone.

She leaned closer, letting her wine-colored hair spill over one shoulder as she observed the smaller bot. “Adorable. A bit of charm and smarts combined, just like the real thing.” She tapped the mini bot’s head lightly, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "It suits you, actually. I might have to commission a tiny assistant from you myself. Maybe with one of my coats.”

The little bot chirped in response, and Kafka’s laughter was low and warm. "Let’s see what you can do with it,” she said, her gaze focused, “and if you’re up for a little fun.”

Firefly

Firefly watched with quiet admiration as your small robot creation moved around. She crouched down, reaching out a cautious hand to the curious, cute little bot, which hummed softly as it approached her. “These… you created them yourself?” she asked, her tone holding a mix of wonder and reserve.

When you confirmed, she gave a small, almost hidden smile. “They’re… fragile, but strong. Like something meant to last in its own way.” The bot blinked at her, and Firefly’s eyes softened. “Reminds me of the Iron Cavalries back in Glamoth. Only… friendlier.” she added, stroking one of the bot’s tiny antennae.

She looked up at you thoughtfully. “Do they ever get scared?” she asked, a hint of something deeper in her tone. “Out there on their own?”

You reassured her, showing how they could always find their way back to you with a signal, and Firefly’s smile grew just a little. “Then they’re lucky.”

Silver Wolf

"Okay, this is genius!" Silver Wolf leaned in, peering closely at your little bot. It made a light, buzzing sound, like a computer processing, and Silver Wolf’s eyes lit up with excitement. “So, they can copy themselves, hack simple systems, and even do cute dances. You realize how much we could exploit this?”

She nudged the bot playfully, letting out a snicker as it wobbled and then righted itself. “With a few tweaks, I bet I could turn these guys into the ultimate diversion—just imagine the look on Screwllum’s face when these little cuties start hacking his defenses.”

The little bot tried imitating her gesture, lifting a stubby little arm in a “cheer” motion, and she laughed. “Yup, they’re my kind of bots! We could be an unstoppable team. You up for a little programming jam session?”

Blade

Blade stood in silence, his eyes fixed on the small robot rolling around in front of him. You watched as he knelt down, expression unreadable, while the little bot wheeled over and stopped at his foot. It beeped softly, looking up at him with a wide, innocent lens.

He seemed almost hesitant, looking from the small bot to you. “It’s… small,” he finally said, as though the idea itself was strange. The bot moved closer, and Blade didn’t flinch, even as it nuzzled against his hand like a pet.

“Strange to see something so… unburdened by fate,” he muttered under his breath. There was an intensity in his eyes as he reached out to gently touch the bot’s head. “If only everything could be so simple.”

The little bot let out a chirp, and you told him it was their way of saying they liked him. He let out a rare, low chuckle. “Then I suppose it’s good it doesn’t know who I am. Still, I… appreciate it.”

He glanced up at you, something softer in his gaze. “Keep them close. They’re safer that way.”

This is very lazily written, sorry y'all. I'm not feeling well today.

[velaazuretail]

Req’s OPEN! | | a stressful day at work.

﹒ ∬ ﹒☕️ ﹒ GENSHIN X READER | Fluff |

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ Diluc, Kaeya & Neuvillete.

✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕DILUC ❤️‍🔥

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting Mondstadt in a serene twilight. Diluc Ragnvindr, the stoic owner of the Dawn Winery, trudged up the path to his mansion, his mind heavy with the day's events. Kaeya, his adoptive brother, had been particularly vexing today, stirring up trouble that only Diluc could resolve.

As he pushed open the grand doors of his home, the familiar scent of aged oak and fresh grapes greeted him. But it was the soft, warm light spilling from the living room that drew him in. There, nestled in a cozy armchair, was you, reading a book by the fire.

Hearing the door, you looked up, your eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and joy. "Welcome home, Diluc," you said, their voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Diluc's stern expression softened as he approached, shedding his coat and gloves. "It's good to be home," he replied, his voice low and weary.

You stood, crossing the room to meet him. You reached up, gently cupping his face, your touch grounding him. "Rough day?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Diluc sighed, leaning into your touch. "Kaeya," he said simply, the name carrying a world of frustration and affection.

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing through his fiery hair. "Come, sit with me. You need to relax."

You led him to the couch, where he sank into the cushions with a grateful sigh. You settled beside him, your presence a comforting anchor. You talked about everything and nothing, the mundane details of your day a welcome distraction from his worries.

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Diluc felt the tension slowly ebb away. Your laughter, your gentle teasing, and the simple act of being together were enough to remind him why he endured the challenges of his role.

In that quiet moment, with you by his side, Diluc found peace. The world outside could wait. For now, he was home.

✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕KAEYA ❄️

Kaeya sighed as he pushed open the door to his home, the weight of the day still heavy on his shoulders. The usually composed Cavalry Captain had been put through the wringer by none other than Klee, whose explosive antics had turned a routine patrol into a chaotic adventure. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of her innocent smile as she handed him a freshly caught fish, completely oblivious to the havoc she had wreaked.

As he stepped inside, the familiar warmth of his home enveloped him, a stark contrast to the icy chill of his Cryo abilities. The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the living room, casting a cozy ambiance that immediately began to soothe his frayed nerves. He could hear the faint hum of a melody drifting from the kitchen, a sure sign that you were busy preparing dinner.

"Welcome home, Kaeya," a gentle voice called out, and he felt a smile tug at his lips. He followed the sound, finding you standing by the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled absolutely divine.

"Hey," he replied, his voice softening as he approached. "You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

You turned to him, concern etched on their face. "Rough day with Klee again?"

Kaeya nodded, leaning against the counter. "You could say that. She managed to turn a simple patrol into a full-blown adventure. I think I aged a few years today."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you reached up to cup his cheek. "Well, you're home now. Why don't you sit down and relax? Dinner will be ready soon."

Kaeya closed his eyes, leaning into the comforting touch. "That sounds perfect," he murmured. "Thank you."

He moved to the living room, sinking into the plush cushions of the couch. The tension in his muscles began to melt away as he listened to the soothing sounds of his spouse bustling in the kitchen. It was moments like these that reminded him why he worked so hard—to protect the peace and happiness of those he loved.

A few minutes later, you joined him, carrying a tray laden with steaming dishes. You set it down on the coffee table and sat beside him, your presence a balm to his weary soul.

"Here you go," you said, handing him a plate. "I made your favorite."

Kaeya's eyes lit up as he took the plate, the delicious aroma making his mouth water. "You always know how to make everything better," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

You shared a quiet meal, the simple act of eating together bringing a sense of normalcy and comfort. As you finished, Kaeya leaned back, feeling more relaxed than he had all day.

"Thank you," he said again, his voice sincere. "For everything."

You smiled, your eyes filled with love. "Always, Kaeya. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Kaeya reached out, taking your hand in his. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their home and the love of his spouse, he knew that no matter how stressful his days might be, he would always have a place to return to—a place where he was truly at peace.

✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕NEUVI 🌊

Neuvillete sat at his desk, the weight of his responsibilities pressing heavily on his shoulders. Furina's incessant whining filled the room, her voice a constant reminder of the chaos that seemed to follow her everywhere. He sighed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the growing headache.

Just as he was about to lose his patience, he caught sight of you, his beloved spouse, standing in the doorway. Your presence was like a breath of fresh air, a beacon of hope in the midst of his turmoil. Neuvillete's heart skipped a beat, and a small, secretive smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Without a word, he made a decision. He would sneak out, if only for a moment, to be with you. He glanced at Furina, who was still lost in her own world of complaints, and quietly rose from his chair. Moving with the stealth of a shadow, he slipped past her and out of the room.

As he moved through the halls, his footsteps were near silent, his focus solely on reaching you. He knew that every second counted, that Furina’s attention could be drawn at any moment, and he had to act fast. But despite the urgency, his thoughts were a jumble, his mind flooded with a mix of anxiety and excitement at the prospect of being with you.

Finally, he reached the secluded spot where you waited for him. His heart raced in his chest as he saw you standing there, a comforting sight in the midst of his chaotic world.

Wasting no time, Neuvillete stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours. The tension in his shoulders eased a little, your presence already working its magic to soothe his frazzled nerves.

“I had to get away to see you," he whispered, his voice soft. “Just for a moment, to escape the madness.”

You smiled at Neuvillete’s words, understanding his need for even a brief respite from the chaos that was currently consuming him.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. The contact was subtle, but it spoke volumes of the love and concern you felt for your spouse. "It’s alright," you whispered back, your voice comforting. "I know the weight you're carrying. I'm here."

Neuvillete’s expression softened at your touch, the stress lines on his forehead relaxing a little. He reached out and grasped your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, relishing the comfort your presence brought him.

“I don’t know how much longer I can handle this," he admitted, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Furina is relentless. She’s driving me mad with her constant demands.”

You nodded, understanding his frustration all too well. Furina’s childish antics had always tested everyone’s patience, even your own. But now, with so much at stake, her behavior felt almost unbearable.

“I know," you said, your voice soft but firm. “But you don’t have to face this alone. We’re in this together, remember?”

A flicker of gratitude passed over Neuvillete’s face, his grip on your hand tightening. Your words were a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he had your unwavering support and strength to rely on.

“You’re right," he murmured, his voice quiet. “I just… sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in all this responsibility. It’s overwhelming.”

Just as Neuvillete was about to respond to your words, a shout rang out from behind him. Furina suddenly appeared in the distance, a look of outrage on her face.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” she demanded, her voice shrill and indignant.

Neuvillete tensed, cursing under his breath. He had hoped to have more time alone with you before Furina noticed his absence.

Neuvillete acted quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you away just as Furina was closing in.

He half-jogged, half-ran through the halls, his mind solely focused on evading Furina’s pursuit.

His grip on your arm was tight, a mix of protectiveness and desperation. He didn’t want to be separated from you again, not so soon after finally finding a moment of respite.

Finally, he spotted a secluded spot - a small, empty room that he knew was seldom used. He hurriedly pulled you inside and shut the door behind them, locking it for good measure.

He collapsed against the door, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, making his heart race. He looked at you, his expression a mix of relief and worry.

“I’m sorry," he apologized, his voice winded but sincere. “I had hoped we would have more time before she saw us…”

He pushed off the door, walking closer to you. His eyes scanned your face, checking for any signs of distress or fear.

You reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. The fear and tension in his body were palpable, and you wanted nothing more than to soothe his worries.

He leaned into your touch, his head resting against your shoulder as he drew in a shaky breath. The comfort and security of your embrace slowly began to quiet the storm of thoughts in his mind.

In that moment, all the worries and responsibilities seemed to melt away. It was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s embrace, finding peace in the midst of the chaos. And for Neuvillete, that was enough.

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕That’s all, thank you for reading! I still do graphics but for now I’m writing.. so sorry if it’s not good, it’s my first time 💔 please do send request and tips! ^^

﹕i made the Neuvillete one long for my friend

[chilumi-shipper]

Why Cling On?

Kaeya x GN!Reader

Summary: You keep clinging onto a relationship where it seems like you're the only person that actually cares about it. But... you do get tired. Kaeya let's you get hurt.

Tags: Crying, Swearing, Reader getting hurt, Break Up, Hurt/No Comfort

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Kaeya

He's charming, isn't he?

Everyone sure do think so.

Handsome, flirty, confident, cool, just the mere sight of him makes people fall to their knees.

And he loves the attention, even going as far as to respond to the attention with teasing remarks, encouraging his admirers to continue their pursuit of him.

They were fully aware of who you are, yet they did not have a problem with shoving you to the side just to get closer to their crush.

Yeah, they're just some admirers stuck with the mindset that they have a chance with the ever so charming Cavalry Captain...

But the problem is... Kaeya doesn't seem to mind that they just shove you away to get to him.

You tried your hardest to not look his way, gripping a glass of wine in your hand as you sat in front of the bar of Angel's Share. Kaeya's been chatting with some girls in a booth not far from the bar, despite not looking at them, you can hear the girls' giggles as well as the blue-haired man's light chuckle.

"Why are you with him again?" Diluc poured a glass of beer for another customer, but his eyes were pointed at you still. You looked at him, sighing as you took a sip of your wine.

"...I love him..."

"Kaeya, where have you been?!"

"Ohh, here we go..." He spat in a sarcastic tone. "I don't need this right now." Clearly, he was drunk.

Kaeya can hold his alcohol really well, so to see him almost collapsing with every step, his voice slurred, and body language dull and slouchy, you knew that he's wasted.

"It's past midnight, you were out drinking yourself silly all night?!" You asked him angrily. "I was so worried, you didn't even tell me where you were going!" You could almost cry from shouting, you weren't used to it.

"I don't need to fucking tell you shit. That's what people do!" Kaeya's voice dominated your meek and quiet one. "They don't stay home like you, waiting and being mad for no reason!"

He's scary when he's angry...

There was so much you wanted to say, but you were simply too shaken up to let yourself speak.

You let him slam the bedroom door in your face.

"Yeah... I really love him..." You stated, but you knew there was a hint of uncertainty in your voice.

Diluc's fiery red eyes looked at you unamused. "Lots of people do, apparently." His gaze then turns to his brother's booth.

The pyro user couldn't help but feel sorry for you, for falling in love with someone like Kaeya. You're pure and kind, worthy of love just as warm as the love you give. You don't deserve a love so tainted it's basically nothing more than just a joke.

"Make sure that you're aware of what you truly want, Y/N."

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Kaeya smiled, he was a little looser than usual, due to the drinks.

You were walking side by side, on your way home. "Yeah..." You forced back a smile.

A shout of his name came just after and a crowd quickly formed around you two.

"It's the Cavalry Captain!"

"Oh, Barbatos, it's really him."

"Here's our chance."

You were slowly being shoved away from him, a ton of people gathering around Kaeya as he merely smiled at them, letting out a proud remark of how many people came just to see him.

Suddenly, your arm was grabbed and you were sharply pulled down.

You fell to the ground, your arm scraping the hard concrete and a sharp pain took over your entire being.

You were laying there, and nobody cared to help you up....

You could only see the huge number of fans your boyfriend has, as well as he didn't even care to look for you in the crowd.

And it was just too much.

The chatter among the admirers faded as they heard a sob pierce the air.

They're eyes landed at you, as you uncontrollably let out meek sobs. Your hand went to your arm, feeling a liquid flow from it.

Blood.

Tears streamed from your eyes, glancing down at the wound on your arm. Your vision was blurry due to the hot tears, but you could see how serious it was.

Everything was quiet, and you felt someone try to pull you into their arms. Looking at the person, it was Kaeya, for the first time in a long time, he has a worried expression on his face. But you couldn't look at him right now. At that moment, you could only see the Kaeya that paid attention to everyone but you, the Kaeya that didn't show his love at all.

"Y/N! Are you-" The Cavalry Captain was met with a harsh slap to the face, by your had specifically. In shock, he fell sideways a bit.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" You screamed at him, with all the anger you could muster up from your being. "YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE!" There was no hesitation in your voice, no passiveness. You blurted out how you felt at that moment.

Kaeya looked at your figure, you were shaking, the hand that slapped him now back to clutching the wound on your arm. Your face no longer showed a showed a soft expression, in place of it was pure anger and disgust directed to him.

The eyes of the crowd fell to him again, some even tried to help him up, but he didn't accept anybody's hand.

Tears were still streaming down your face, and he felt that a few also escaped his eyes, wetting his eye patch.

"Baby, I...." He pushed himself back up, slowly trying to get closer to you again. "Please... Let me help you first. We can talk later." He kept his voice gentle and calm.

When his gloved hand slowly pulled you into him, he felt your body tense, like you didn't like the feel of him against you.

"It's okay..." He stood up with you in his arms. His heart ached as he noticed that you were noticably paler. "You're gonna be okay." He admits that he's getting a bit scared.

"Please..." He talked to the crowd. "Leave us alone now." As he walked away, he could still feel the gaze of the others on him, but he needed to get you out of there and back home for some treatment.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

His sleep was disturbed with sounds of movement in his surroundings. The Cavalry Captain woke up with bags of your stuff next to him instead of you.

Looking around, his eyes landed on your figure, folding your clothes carefully with one hand before placing it in a bag, leaving your injured arm to rest.

"...Y/N...?" His husky voice called out for you, but you ignored him. You didn't know him for getting out of bed the moment he wakes up, but he sure was quick this time around.

He walked up to you, looking down on the activity you've been doing. "What's going on?" He gazes onto the window, seeing that the sun had barely risen.

"I'm leaving you." You said, barely giving your words any thought.

He expected an answer like that, but it didn't stop his heart from aching terribly in his chest. Did he even have the right to feel that way? After the way he treated you?

Kaeya was left silent, oh but he wanted to stop you so bad. He got on his knees in front of you, yet you paid him no mind.

"Is there a way I can make you stay...?" He asked in such a quiet voice, a sincere voice that you don't usually hear anymore.

"I know I've been treating you like shit, and I'm so terribly sorry for all of that." Kaeya roughly took off his eye patch, throwing it carelessly to the side. His eyes prickled with tears, but you kept on packing.

"I don't get it, Kaeya. Why are you saying this now?" Your voice no longer held the sweetness it originally had for him. "It makes you look more pathetic."

"Kaeya, I really want to hurt you. So maybe you'd like to scoot away from me a little."

"You can do whatever you want with me." It felt weird for you to be so calm and for him to have the shaky voice and watery eyes. You finally looked at him, smiling ever so slightly.

"I think I'm already hurting you... I'm glad." You zipped the bag up and pushed it a bit closer to him with your feet. "Help me bring my stuff back to my old house."

He got on his feet, gently holding onto the bag before lifting it up. "Okay..." Kaeya said in the middle of a quiet sob.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

You certainly knocked him to his senses. He's thankful for that.

Your signature smile was back on your face.

Your usual behavior shined through as you go about your life.

You're still the Y/N that he fell in love with.

Kaeya just wishes...

That someone else knocked him to his senses so he was ready to fight for you.

Because he's sure he'll never feel the love of someone as great as you.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

I'm sorry I keep making fics of Kaeya being an a-hole! He's just.... Idk, he fits the role I want him to fulfill???

I love him, okayy! In another universe, Kaeya is cuddling with Y/N rn, making sure not to hurt their broken arm :)))

[jinkicake]

Runaway

No matter how far you run, he’ll always catch you. 

Yandere!Diluc, Dottore, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: Hello, my friends..... I was not able to write ANYTHING this week and then I thought about yandere!diluc for .2 seconds and pulled this out of thin air.... if i take a turn toward yandere after this, this is my apology.

!! YANDERE IS ITS OWN WARNING !! ((maybe ooc! idk))

WC - 2,355

~~~

Diluc R. 

“I have a present for you,” Kaeya softly coos behind his drink at the Angel’s Share. Diluc, with the heavy bags positioned below his eyes, glares at his brother. He doesn’t have time for this, not when you are missing from his sight. “it is worth your time to come with me, Master Diluc.” 

And that’s how it happened, the two of them walking through the Whispering Woods as Diluc’s heavy hand rests on his claymore at all times. Kaeya continues to walk confidently in front of him, a sort of air surrounds him that tells the redhead he’s more than thoroughly pleased with his own actions. 

“I heard you lost something recently,” Kaeya starts and the hand on Diluc’s red weapon grows more secure. 

“Kaeya.” Diluc snaps at his brother, warning him to stop at once. 

“See, if I ever lose something, I always have my name on it so everyone knows who to return it to.” The cavalry captain comes to a complete stop before boldly pointing in a direction of a campfire. “You should try it. Perhaps then this situation will not repeat itself.”

Diluc watches warily as Kaeya begins to walk back to the gates but, at the promise of you, he trudges on through the forest. He follows the light between the branches and nearly stiffens when he comes across your figure. Your eyes widen in shock but no noise comes out due to the tape plastered across your lips. The closer Diluc gets, the further you try to press yourself back into the tree that you’re tied to. 

“Beloved, how could this have happened?” At once he drops to his knees and unties the rope around your waist, not yet ripping the material tying your wrists and ankles together. Diluc touches you with a gentle hand, a soft touch as he continues to look you over. He’s been so worried about you since you managed to escape the Winery. 

For nights, he searched every inch of Mondstadt and did not sleep a single wink. How could the cavalry captain have found you when your husband couldn’t? He’ll have to confront his brother about this.

Someone must have hidden you. 

But, Diluc doesn’t have the time to worry about that now when you’re right in front of him again. 

“The outside world is cruel, isn’t it?” He takes note of the way you are shivering before taking off his own jacket to cover your upper body. The bruises against your skin caused by the rope make him sigh. “Let’s go home.”

You thrash against his touch as he effortlessly picks you up, carrying you in his arms. It pains him to see your eyes so full of worry, don’t you understand that he’s here to help you?

“It’s been quiet the last few days without you,” Diluc starts and you tightly swallow in an effort to avoid this conversation. Instantly your eyes close shut. “oh, you must be tired.” 

“We will continue this when we get back home.”

The next time you open your eyes, it is because of the sound of water running. You’re still in Diluc’s arms, supported by his strong build, but now he is focused on the water instead of you. The tape on your mouth is gone, the ropes are long gone, and so are your clothes. 

“This will help you sleep better tonight,” Diluc murmurs into your neck as he slowly lowers you into the bathtub.

“I missed you,” Diluc confesses and the raw vulnerability in his eyes makes you flinch. You choose to focus on the water instead of his genuine kindness. “so much. Not a moment went by where I did not think of you.”

“If there is something that I did to make you leave, you must let me know. A judgment of error can be erased, I can make this life better for you. Let me,” As his hands grab your own, squeezing them beneath his rough skin, you merely blink. “(Y/N).” 

He never calls you by your name in private, it’s always a sweet pet name. 

“I want to go outside.” Your voice is raw, it’s the first time you’ve spoken in hours. Diluc looks pained by this request as his eyes cascade to the ground in shame. 

“I cannot allow that of you. You must understand how cruel it is out there-”

“Just within the lawn of the winery, I won’t go any further than that.” You plead and turn to face the man entirely. Diluc is stunned by your passion and still looks unconvinced, even as you lift your hand to cup his cheeks. 

Instantly, he leans into your touch. 

“Once you get used to that land, you’ll ask for more.” He murmurs, more so to himself. “I apologize, my dear, it pains me to deny you of anything but, no.” Diluc stands from where he was kneeling beside the tub to grab a towel hanging on the wall. “When you want to go outside, you will go with me.”

“And you will never leave this house without me again.”

Dottore

“Zandik,” You weakly murmur as your vision starts to focus. The hue of light blue forms into his wavy hair and the ensemble of colors morphs into his Harbinger uniform. All at once, you manage to see the true picture in front of you. “get away from me!” You scramble to sit up but aren’t able to move. The fatigue now in your arms is heavy, so heavy. Under your weight, you buckle and fall back against the plush hospital bed. 

“I’m known as The Doctor now,” He grins and leans forward enough that the tip of his mask pokes your nose. “aren’t you curious as to why you are here?” The closer he gets, the more you start to freak out. You thrash against the restraints that are pinning you down to the hospital bed but, you’re not able to get anywhere.

“Leave me alone,” Using all your strength, you lift up your exhausted leg and kick it in his general direction. Dottore doesn’t have to move and doesn’t even flinch as he wraps his gloved hand around your ankle. Roughly, he keeps your foot pinned to his chest. Breathing is becoming harder and speaking is almost now impossible to do. It’s a miracle that your slurred, tired words are still enough to use for communication. “Don’t touch me-”

“I will do as I please.” His cold attitude nips at you but, you’re far too out of it to care. You should be worried about his clenched jaw and tight grip. Instead, all you can think about is sleep. 

You can’t fall asleep in his presence. 

“This must be a nightmare,” It’s the only explanation for all of this. You haven’t seen the ex-student, your ex-boyfriend, in years and there’s no way he would be back in Sumeru without you knowing. The Akademiya would be fools to let him back into the city. 

“You still think of me?” He leans closer to you and you stubbornly turn your head to the side so that you don’t have to look at him. “Dream of me?” His hand lowers your leg to the sheets before running up your calf, lightly cupping the muscle as his thumb rubs soft strokes into your skin.

“Stop.” You know that you can’t keep your eyes open for much longer, with each passing moment your blinks are getting heavier and longer. There’s a hopeful part of you that pleads with the Lesser Lord Kusanali that this will all be over once you wake up again. “You’re not supposed to be here,”

He watches you with interest, with a certain fascination that he used to harbor for you all those years ago. Pathetic mask on his face or not, you can still read him like an open book. It makes you feel sick. 

“Where should I be then?” His fingers move up to the back of your knee, gently resting against your skin as he rubs gentle circles. You take a deep breath before looking over at him, eyes half-lidded and your body ready to give out entirely. 

“As far away from me as possible.” You knew that this was going to anger him, deeply frustrate him. Dottore reacts just as you thought he would as his gloved fingers dig painfully into your leg. In a pitiful attempt, you try to squirm away from him but, you can’t move a single inch. Nothing has changed from before. 

“You still have a mouth on you, hm?” He sneers and the rasp in his voice makes your temples ache. Whenever he speaks, he reminds you of a dark melody. You can’t get tired of it no matter how many times you hear the soothing sound. 

“Please leave me alone,” One more time, you try to beg him again. You fool yourself into thinking that maybe, for once, he can give you up. Your breathing is getting slower and you know that by now, you’re out of words. 

“Don’t act so foolish.” His scowl makes you whimper and you finally give up on trying to stay awake. Your eyes flutter shut with the intention of remaining that way for some period of time. It’s a shame that you can still hear him talk, you can still hear his cold words that destroy your entire resolve and crush your world. “You know that for as long as I breathe, I will keep coming back for you.” 

Zhongli

“You thought you could run from me?” Where he stands tall before you, Zhongli looks wrongfully disappointed. His amber eyes are dull with judgment, brows furrowed in irritation at the thought of being separated from you. “Part from me?” His thick arms are crossed over his chest, muscles bulging against the dark material of his sleeves. “What you have committed is a breach of our contract, a crime against the natures of this world.” 

Your lips part open to speak, to defend yourself but, you’re silenced by the pointed look in his eyes. From where you kneel before him on the cold ground of this mountaintop, you’ve never felt smaller. 

“Due to your unlawful actions, a serious crime awaits you.” Zhongli looks you over, glances over you with his hardened eyes before beginning to walk past you. 

You can’t let him walk away like this, you feel completely and utterly useless. 

“I’ll do it again,” You quietly spit and Zhongli is close enough to hear it, just barely another stride in. His eyes widen with a certain anger he’s not sure he’s felt in years before he tightly grips your shoulder. 

No, something like this can never happen again.

“Are you threatening me?” He asks slowly, calmly but you can hear the shake that swallows each word. You can’t bring yourself to nod or shake your head as he stands behind you, fingers pressing into your collarbone. “Perhaps, I have been too kind with you.” 

That’s all the warning you get before he roughly pulls you to your feet by your bicep, you’re dragged behind him by his tight grip. No matter how hard you resist and try to dig your feet into the ground, lower yourself to the rocks, your perseverance is no match for Zhongli’s strength. 

“If I must, I will hold you over the cliff side until you willingly submit to me.” The cruel words are matched by his actions as he holds you over the path. All that stands between you and the faraway ground is a single hand. Zhongli ignores your desperate attempt to get back onto land, in fact, his grip slightly loosens the more that you move. 

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” You cannot take your eyes off the ground, the yellow grass and clear streams seem so peaceful, so calming. Calming if not for your heart nearly failing in your chest. “I won’t run away anymore, I promise!”’

“You promise to go back to the house and never leave it unless I tell you to?” He watches how your expression falters, how you lie through your teeth with an obedient nod. “I don’t believe you.” For a moment, he lets go of you entirely. For a moment, you’re nothing against the harsh confines of gravity. Nothing stands between you and the ground hundreds of meters below. 

But, then, Zhongli grabs your flailing hand. He lifts you up high enough that you’re above the mountain top that he stands on but, your feet aren’t touching the ground. Even with a struggle, your feet can not touch the ground. 

“I give you second chances because I love you.” The tears in your eyes blind you from the raw emotion in his own amber hues and to the frustrated sneer on his face. “Why do you put yourself in such dangerous positions? I cannot trust you to be on your own, you understand, don’t you?” 

Slowly, Zhongli lowers you back to the ground. The feeling in your legs is gone from being tossed around like a doll and you immediately slump against him, gripping his chest to stand upright. Your beloved supports you with a strong hand around your waist. 

As he tilts his head, lowering his face to your ear, you squeeze your eyes together tightly. 

“(Y/N), try to run away from me again and I will let you fall further next time.” The mere mention of his torture makes your knees buckle and his touch only grows tighter. “But, do not worry. Your husband will always catch you.” 

You find it odd how Zhongli refers to himself as your husband, as something that concerns only the mortal man. But, then, you feel his ring pressing into your spine. Even as an immortal, he takes this marriage much more seriously than you do. You can’t possibly understand it. 

His raw emotion, his deep feelings, you’ll never understand the true extent of them. Zhongli has waited for ages to feel like this, to feel so satisfied with his tasks. He’ll never let you go.

“I will never let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

[sttoru]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 !

ෆ sypnosis. you find yourself in a situation where a man is giving you unwanted attention / tries to flirt with you. your lover finds out about this and comes to your rescue; what will he do and how will he react?

ෆ note. uhmmm this draft was rottjng and i finally decided to finish it today oopssss . not entirely proof read !

ෆ tags. kaeya, ayato, cyno x female reader (seperately). fluff. all chara’s are protective / possessive however you want to see it, unwanted flirting / verbal harassment but nothing too bad, you’re ayato’s wife in his part. headcanons + drabbles.

KAEYA ALBERICH.

keeps his emotions in check. if kaeya sees a man openly flirting with you, he’ll definitely fake a smile when approaching the two of you. not his usual, soft smile; more of an empty one.

the type to give (not so) subtle hints to the person flirting with you that you’re taken; like, he will not say anything directly to the other person about their behaviour, however he will keep it lowkey (and maybe passive aggressive).

and best believe he’s trying his best not to cause a scene and fight anyone if they make you uncomfortable by overly flirting with you. any type of discomfort coming from his lover is a green light for him to use his position as the cavalry captain and the power that it comes with.

you awkwardly shift in your seat at the bar counter as a drunk man keeps on talking to you even when you’ve politely told him that you’re not interested.

your boyfriend, kaeya, had stepped out of the bar for just a second to talk to one of his colleagues. that’s when the random man—who introduced himself as bruce—decided to take his chance.

you fiddle with your clothes as you await your lover’s return. kaeya usually asks his brother to take care of you when he’s not around at the tavern, however diluc wasn’t there to prevent this situation from unfolding either.

“you seem to be getting a bit too drunk, lad.”

a familiar voice causes you to turn your body to the right. there he is: kaeya, standing behind you with his hand on bruce’s shoulder. if you looked closely, you’d notice how firm of a grip kaeya had on the drunken man—the fabric of his clothes wrinkled underneath kaeya’s palm.

“h-kaeya—that you, buddy?” bruce laughs wholeheartedly, his words slurring a little, “i gotta say, ya got quite a pretty thing with you!”

a breathy chuckle escaped kaeya’s lips. it wasn’t an amused or humorous chuckle, but rather one that sounded like his patience was running low.

“mhm, that so?” kaeya subtly gestures to the knight that had accompanied him inside the bar.

the young knight understands and nods at his captain. the knight walks towards bruce, holding the drunkard by his arm and forcing him to stand up straight.

“say, bruce,” kaeya starts, sighing softly as he put his hands in his pockets before bending his head down to whisper his next words into the man’s ear; “i may have been a bit too lenient with you. i’ll see you later in my office, yeah?”

kaeya says all of that with a smile as he straightens his back again. you (and probably many of the wrongdoers in mondstadt who were unlucky enough to experience kaeya’s hidden wrath) knew that empty smile all too well. one that you see when you know you’ve messed up.

bruce was too drunk to even realise what was implied as he was escorted out of the tavern by the knight.

kaeya sighs to himself before turning to you with a genuine, worried smile; “i’m extremely sorry, sweetheart. i should’ve stayed with you.”

you smile at your lover and shake your head, “it’s fine, kaeya. thank you for being there for me anyway.”

the cavalry captain frowns at his own ignorance; he should known some creep would hit on you while he was gone. it was a dangerous decision of him to leave you in a bar between all kinds of impolite, loud and drunk men.

“may i hug you?” kaeya adds quietly, eyes searching for yours as if asking for permission. his reason for asking for your consent, is because he thought you’d might be uncomfortable with any type of close proximity after that encounter with bruce.

“of course, babe.” you nod.

kaeya opens his arms as an invitation for you to get into his embrace. you instantly hug him back, laying your head against his chest. his heartbeat was steady and his dainty fingers were immediately caressing your back in a comforting manner.

“if anything like that ever happens again, you call out for me, alright? i’ll make sure to keep you safe. no matter where you might be.”

KAMISATO AYATO.

gets big mad, like.. mad mad, but like on the inside. he’s the head of his clan-of course he has dealt with rude people before- however none of those experiences included you being verbally harassed by a stranger.

ayato will probably not lash out at the man (especially not in front of you); he has his own ways of putting rude people in their place. many being.. torturous. to him it’s justified: whoever messes with his wife, messes with him.

will not show you how much he wishes he could act out of line. although, ayato knows well enough what his limits are. direct violence isn’t going to solve anything, but maybe threats will.

ayato was coming home soon from his business trip which is why you decided to wait on him outside of the kamisato estate. you were dressed up nicely and had proudly prepared him his favourite dishes for the first time in a while. all set to greet your dear husband.

what you didn’t expect to see, was a random adventurer climbing up the stairs near the estate. the man shamelessly looked you up and down before asking you for nearby directions. you didn’t think much about it and gave him the needed information.

thinking your duty there was done, you walked back to the entrance of the estate so you could await your husband’s arrival inside the building. it was getting a bit chilly anyway.

“oh, ma’am! can you at least tell me your name?” the voice echoes behind you. you felt a cold hand brush against yours and it almost made you freeze on spot. you flinched and took your hand away, frowning as you look back at the stranger.

there were maids cleaning around the courtyard and they noticed the scene unfolding in front of their eyes. they instantly sensed your uneasiness and rushed to your rescue—circling the man and telling him that this area is off limits for strangers. this causes a constant back and forth squabble between the man and the servants, who were simply trying to do their job: protecting the young master’s wife when he isn’t near.

“move.”

ayato’s sudden appearance and sharp voice shuts everyone up. his maids and servants immediately stand straight and then move to bow at their master— heads held low out of respect, yet also out of fear for his wrath. you might not have noticed it, but his servants have known him since he was a child and thus can easily spot the (hidden) dangerous aura ayato emitted.

“ah, ayato !” you smile in relief at your husband and give him a small wave. he, however, seemed rather tense as he walked over to you—eyes scanning your body for any signs of discomfort. ayato’s gloved hands immediately cup your face once he is close enough, “are you okay, sweetheart?”

“yes, i am. thank you.” you reply, his hands gently touching your cheeks were a complete opposite to the anger boiling up inside of him. ayato places a soft kiss to your forehead in hopes to calm your nerves, as if to say ‘you’re safe, i’m here now’.

“escort her to her room.” your husband orders the two maids standing next to you and they instantly do as told. before you got taken away from him, ayato flashes you his usual charming smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “i’ll be there with you soon, honey. i’ll just see this man out.”

once you were out of sight, that smile of ayato’s instantly vanished and got replaced by a cold, piercing expression. he turned towards the unknown man who was now cuffed by two guards;

“now then, shall we go talk outside of the estate for a bit? the maids have cleaned the garden rather thoroughly today and i do not wish to let their hard work go to waste by my… well, disciplining.”

CYNO.

appears out of thin air to defend you. you might even start to question if he’s secretly following you everywhere, because cyno does not fail to show up whenever you are in any kind of trouble.

probably also (temporarily) arrests whoever bothers you. he does that instead of literally beating them up to a pulp. it’s easier and avoids further trouble after all. though, cyno doesn’t arrest them without giving them a proper ‘punishment’ of his own.

has no time to beat around the bush— he’s direct when approaching the person who’s bothering you.

you were walking around the marketplace with only one goal in mind: getting the needed ingredients for the dish you wanted to prepare tonight. the streets were crowded, chatter and negotiations filling your ears as you stopped near a fruit and vegetables stall.

“can i get 2 kilograms of zaytun, please?” you ask the vendor, fishing your wallet from your pocket already. you exchanged the bag of food with a couple of mora and bid the owner of the stall farewell.

you were too busy inspecting the contents of the bag and therefore bumped into a tall guy. you excuse yourself, however that didn’t seem enough for the man, “hey, hold on there, pretty thing.”

a sigh escapes your lips as you know where the conversation would go; he’ll most likely ask you for compensation for bumping into him. you turned around to face the stranger again, a fake smile plastered on your face, “what is it, sir?”

the man hums as he studies your looks. he’s trying very hard to be very intimidating by staring down at you—hands in his pockets with a smirk tugging at his lips, “ya know, i think i’m gonna ask for another type of compensation from y… ou..”

you raise an eyebrow once you notice his voice trailing off until he’s completely silent; eyes wide and smirk wiped off his face like he’s seen a ghost. you decide to follow the way the man’s eyes were looking—that place being right behind you.

“cyno?!” you almost jump from surprise yourself the moment you come face to face with your lover whom had appeared from out of nowhere. there was a purple-ish glow surrounding his body, sparks from his electro vision making him seem even more terrifying—not to include the death stare the mahamatra was giving to the stranger.

there were no words coming out of your lover. he was silently glaring at the man who bothered you and his piercing gaze was no joke. cyno was finally about to open his mouth to talk, however the upcoming words were never uttered as the stranger interrupted him;

“i— uhh, i’m sorry.” the dark-haired man sheepishly apologises and takes a few steps back, clearly intimidated. cyno was not going to let him get away so easily. though, firsts things first: your lover had to check up on you.

“the bastard didn’t touch you or anything, right?” cyno asks you, brushing some strands of hair from your face, “if he did, make sure to tell me. i won’t show him any mercy.”

you shake your head and gulp a bit. even when you’ve seen cyno in action so many times before, his presence never fails to impress you. “he didn’t,” you answer quietly, to which cyno nods.

“good.” your lover hums before letting his arm fall to his side again. he gives you a small, reassuring smile and pats your back, “you can go ahead. i’ll see you at home.”

you were not about to argue with cyno when he was in that state and thus continue on with your little stroll.

little did you know that that stranger was in danger.

[diejager]

A Fantasy

Pairing: YANDERE Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

Cw: NSFW, DARK, non-con, dub-con, non-con drugging, somnophilia, creampie, possessiveness, obsessiveness, breeding, marking, blood, biting, Stockholm syndrome, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 9.8k

(A/N): FYI, Tracer’s (Overwatch 2) the reader’s mentor.

Requested by : @oyasumimosura

What stood before you was a great field of devastation and ruin, burned and broken buildings that used to be warm homes, lively parks that were turned to ashes, trees and plants laid wasted around dilapidated cars with broken windows and bent metal. People, young and old, laid motionless on the scarred ground, burnt black or left intact in a pool of their blood. Some were holding hands, a family, friends, a couple. Others were alone, forgotten, and left to their sad deaths.

One minute you were rushing through a portal, behind your mentor and besides your teammates, the Cavalry, as she liked to say. Rushing through fights to protect humanity and omnics and its future. The mission was like the one yesterday, the preparation, the meeting, the briefing, and the deployment, but the fate of it changed. A portal malfunctioned, it sent you elsewhere, far away and lost. This wasn't your world, this wasn't your universe, but now, you were in someone else's universe, playing their game.

The clock had struck and time felt meaningless on the battlefield, the sounds of beating aircraft blades, the booming shot of guns and the shockwaves of grenades were all people could hear. Soldiers were the only ones left, fighting against the other side - the enemy, the traitors, the terrorists - until one came out victorious.

While purposeful, the deaths and ruin of this Occidental village were regretful, families shattered, memories lost, and homes destroyed. All you could do was run around, trying to find the source of those cries you heard. A little girl's, whose tears welled for the mother she lost in the tirade of war.

The longer you ran, the closer you got to her. The girl's purple shirt and jeans were dirtied with soot and ash, dark from what was left of her village. You blinked, fazing through time and space to get to her more quickly. Rounding broken walls and jumping over fallen debris, you left a blue trail behind you, blinking your way to the crying kid.

You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into your chest when you got to her, recalling to your previous position with the girl, behind a brick wall. She clung to you, eyes red and swollen, lips bit red and her cheeks puffy. She looked like a seven-year-old child, alone, lost, and miserable without her parents or protection.

"Don't worry, love, " you used the words Tracer often used when she saved someone, her reassuring and calm voice. "I'm here."

Those zigzagging lines of light lingered in his mind, a shadow of a woman making her way through the abandoned town. The spring in her steps and the flexibility of her movements, jumping higher than any man should've been able to and changing directions so easily. She was fast, vanishing in a line of blue light and then appearing once more meters away.

Ghost saw her save a child, no older than an eight-year-old - or so he thought. A lone child on the battlefield was dangerous, a death wish for the kid if his enemies got to her first. Fortunately, the athletic woman got to the kid before anyone could, swiping her into her arms and disappearing in a blink. Seconds ago, she stood next to the pole, now all that was left was a blur of blue. She had disappeared as quickly as she appeared.

He picked at the memory constantly, powers, it seemed, were her thing, speed and agility of which no one should be able to wield, but she did and she used it to save a child. Although he admired that from a stranger, the question of her being a danger to them was still left unanswered. Whether she could be trusted or an unknown enemy that would tip the scales in the enemy's favour.

However, months later, after the war ended, there weren't any sightings of her, anywhere on earth, as if she had disappeared - again. He remembered her, though, the determined glint beneath blue goggles, her hair tied in a ponytail, flowing through the air, and her pretty lips.

She could still be in Europe, she probably was, or so he hoped. It would mean that he could run the chance of meeting her, to quench his gnawing curiosity. It would be difficult - near impossible - to find her in the millions living in Europe, but he would keep his eyes open, he had questions and he wanted answers.

He wasn't a believer per se, nor was he an atheist, he had a veto in what he put his trust and belief in. He wouldn't curse others for not believing in a God or gods, he wouldn't scoff at those who believed in them, and everyone had their rights. At this moment, however, the thought of God helping him had crossed his mind.

He had dared cross his limit, entering a small cafe - or a bistro, he wasn't sure - blocks from his flat. It was small and homely, the air was warm with the smell of coffee and tea and the place welcoming with the smiling faces of the cafe's workers.

He sat far into the shop, his back against the softness of the booth's couch, bored eyes observing his surrounding for any danger. Even off duty, the habits that ensured his safety still stuck to him, following him wherever he went.

The waitress, a young-looking woman, with striking eyes and hair pulled in a bun, walked his way. Her face looked familiar, lashes framing her pretty eyes, blushed cheeks and beautiful full lips. He knew those lips, and those eyes, and her build, short and athletic, but strong.

It was the child-saving vigilante he saw, only without her blue goggles and her tight bodysuit, blue and white that emphasized her muscles (it was probably made for usefulness, sticking to her body without any stray cloth when she ran, it made running faster and easier.). Wearing a chemise and black pants, instead of the standard skirt the other women wore, her shoes clicked as she approached him, hand pulling out a pad from her black apron's pocket.

He froze when her hand disappeared into her pocket, the items inside were unknown to him, and the content could be dangerous to him. He had to remind himself that she was a civilian at the moment, not an enemy vying for his head. She was safe, as long as she didn't attack him. He waited for her to speak, her pretty lips forming the words she wanted to tell him.

"Good morning, sir," her voice was melodic, soft and inviting. He craved hearing her speak to him with the soft lull of her tone. "Have you decided?"

Decided? What had she - you - meant by "decided"? Then he remembered he was in a cafe, people walked in to order food and drinks, to go or to eat there. He couldn't drift off like that, he couldn't disappear into the darkest depth of his mind. It was a dangerous place.

He cleared his throat, blonde lashes fluttering as he blinked, staring at your face. You were pretty. His words rumbled out, slightly muffled by his black mask: "No." He neither spoke more nor less, blunt as a hammer and sharp as a knife.

"Would you like more time to decide?" You were polite, smiling at him although his only spoken words were brash. He didn't want you to go yet, he just found you, heard and spoke to you,

"Anything you- uh... you recommend?"

You perked up at his question, seeing a more approachable change in him. Your smile widened, brighter than before as you listed off the menu by heart. Your optimism reminded him of Johnny's, expressively happy and grinning. The cafe - Ma's cafe, he learned from you - had its famously brewed tea latte, a mixture of earl grey and vanilla latte.

He took your recommendation, and you left with a skip, apron bouncing with each step. He watched you walk behind the counter, shuffling around with cups and the machine - he thought it was a coffee machine, those with pre-made coffee in its tank - meticulously, knowing well what he ordered.

You came back minutes later with a smoking mug filled with a milky brown liquid. It was fitting its name - London fog - with the white swirls that mimicked the fog that filled the cool, morning air until early evening when the sun started heating everything.

"Thank you...?" Ghost tried, wanting to know your name, you didn't have a tag on your apron.

You gave him your name with the smile you gave everyone, a customer service kind of smile that would assure that you wouldn't get any complaints about your service. He repeated your name a few times in his mind, memorizing every syllable and the way it sounded so well.

He wanted to repeat your name, whisper it lowly, but he had to make sure you were farther away from him, or you'd hear him obsessively call you. It rolled off his tongue amazingly, a perfect symphony with his deeper, raspy voice. He'll get to know you better, he planned on visiting more often, to learn your schedule and watch over you.

He pushed every intrusive thought back, bringing the mug to his lips (he had pulled down his mask to drink). It was sweet, slightly bitter from the coffee, but sweet nonetheless, perhaps a bit too sugary. He savoured the drink you made him, breathing the warm aroma of your mix. You'd made it, you had it, and served it. It was made for him, with your care and smile.

Ghost came by the next week, wearing the same black hoodie and dark jeans. He sat at the same booth and waited for you to walk by with the same smile as the prior week. You did, eyes wide with recognition when you caught him staring at you from the corner booth. You made your way to him with a grin, clad in a similar uniform and a serving tray under your arm.

"You came back," your calming voice reached his ears, giving him something to cling to in the cafe.

He liked habits, familiar things and usual occasions, but he hated the new and the unknown. They were dangerous, and deadly in his line of work. You expressed your gratitude at the tip he left you, way over the usual price other usual clients would.

"I never got your name."

He hadn't given you his name? That's right, he didn't for fear of people finding out his true identity, a broken man hidden under the mask of a monster - a Ghost. Trust issues stacked with insecurities and his introverted tendencies had made forming relationships much harder, making friends complicated with the backlash of his many blunt comments and irritated huffs, and letting people in from the fear of being betrayed, backstabbed, beaten and abandoned.

You were a vigilante, you saved a girl, you smiled at him and greeted him like you would a friend. You didn't shy away, nor freeze at the mere sight of him. You were new, but you were good - or so he thought you were. To him, you could be the achieved unachievable, a friend made from dust, a relationship formed from miracles and normalcy.

He blinked, mumbling lowly his name, low enough that it only reached your ears. You cocked your head downward, your smile widening as you repeated his name.

"Nice to see you again, Simon. I'm happy to see you again."

He nearly shuddered from hearing his name roll off your tongue, so melodically spoken. He wants to hear you call his name again and again and again, as many times as you could until he got sick of it (he probably wouldn't, he was already addicted to the way you spoke).

He dozed at your words, that you were glad he came back. He was glad too. He wanted to come by the day after his first visit, but it would seem too strange, perhaps dangerous to see him every day at the same spot, at the same time of day. He was a man of schedules, organized and neat planning.

He figured he would start by buying once a week for a month or two, then change it to twice a week for the following months, until seeing him every day would become the norm for you. He would kickstart the routine and make it a usual appearance in your life. He would make *him* a usual appearance in your life.

"Same as last time, Simon?"

God, he loved hearing you say his name. He simply nodded, he would make it his usual, a hut sweet, but enough to drown the bitterness in his soul.

The leaves turned darker, shrivelling and dropping dead to the ground. The mellow sky grew gloomy, and colder with each passing day until it dropped so low that Ghost had to wear a thicker jacket over his usual hoodie. Autumn was at an end and winter crawled ever so closer.

He was back from deployment, on a temporary leave to "relax and diffuse" as Laswell said. Everyone was back home, Price with his cigar and Nik, Gaz back home with his girlfriend, Soap with his rowdy family of seven and Roach went home to open arms and warm welcomes from his parents.

Ghost only had an empty apartment - or he used to, he moved to a house on the quieter side of town - and the cute, dazzling waitress that served at Ma's cafe. That's where he was going, he texted you before he left, letting you know that he was back and ready for a hot cup of London fog and brunch.

You read his message, replying with a "Copy that, Lieutenant". It became a running joke between you after he told you about his work, nothing classified or too detailed, but enough to let you know he was built to fight and survive.

The bell rang when he pushed the door, seeing you peer out of the kitchen once he stepped in. He was hit with a warm embrace, the cafe's heater worked well, warming the place and making it cozy enough to eat with only a t-shirt on. He gave you a nod, finding his way to his usual spot, the one he sat at for the past months.

How many months have passed since he first stumbled here? He couldn't remember everything became a blur when it was associated with you. His moments with you were warmer and calmer than at the start. You opened up to him, walls crumbling down and letting yourself build something out of it: a friendship with Ghost.

He liked being friends - for now. He had plans to make a move, to push farther, into unknown territory and try his luck. He had a feeling you'd say yes, he loved you so much and you showered him with adoration and smiles, you had to be in love with him, no? Of course, you were, he wasn't delusional, he was of sound mind, careful.

"Welcome back, Simon," you strut to him so casually, the same clothes, the same smile. "How was your deployment? Soap and Roach got into any trouble?"

He spoke fondly of his TF, they were his family, and he felt proud when he talked about them to you. He invited them once, and they all loved you as much as he did, you were sociable and easy to talk to. Though Price and Soap had the biggest effect on you, they reminded you of someone. You told him about your friends, chaotic like his TF, but a family. It sounded like an ops team, he wouldn't be surprised. He remembered the first time he saw you, it was still fresh in his memory.

"Soap stirred up some shite again," Ghost huffed, sloshing his shoulders to appear more relaxed in your presence, to make him seem less threatening than he was. "No casualties, everyone made it out fine. Bit bruised but alive."

"That's the main objective, no?" You chuckled at Ghost's indignified groans about Soap and Roach behaving like children high on sugar.

You stuck around longer now, gracing him with a bit of random chatter. He got to know about your days, your activities, your wishful thinking and your goals. He discovered something new every day, whether it came from your lips or from his own time.

You stood by his table until the chef rang the call bell. You winked charmingly and turned to get his order, he hadn't ordered yet, but he came by so often, ordering the same that the employees knew what to make when he walked through the door.

He liked the normalcy, where he came by once every two days when he was on leave. If the Task Force was sent on a mission, he could be gone a few days, a few weeks or a month. It always varied, but he made it work with his hate of the unknown, the unpredictable.

"Are you free tonight, love?" Ghost asked, eyes gazing from your hands to your lips.

He found that open-mouthed expression at his question. You seemed hesitant to answer him, thinking about your reply to the man who tipped you well and was as close as a friend to you; or perhaps you were simply shocked that he finally asked you out, and wondering if you had time for him.

You nodded, a smug smile replacing your shock: "How 'bout eight? I finish at seven tonight."

" 'S fine, eight at the bar down the street?"

"It's a date then."

His heart almost broke his ribs, beating wildly against its cage when the word "date" left your lips. He had a date with you tonight, he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps you meant as a date between friends than one between lovers, but at that moment, all he could think was how your hands would feel between his, how your soft, plump lips would feel over his and how your body would feel against his, below and over him.

He dove into his delusional mind, imagines and dreams swimming freely, jumping from one to the other. He had dreams for once, a wish that he hoped you'd indulge, and a family he wanted but lost.

Everything seemed to go the way he planned, you waved at him when you saw him waiting outside the bar and giddily joined him. He found a quiet and mellow corner at the bar, a table pushed against the wall with two stools.

The bartenders knew him, he drank here with the others, and they didn't bother him and served and usual. Some were surprised he brought a friend - a woman - with him but left him to his own.

You sat down and downed a few beers while he drank his bourbon. You spoke sporadically, hands waving enthusiastically with every word. Your cheeks were flushed, slightly pink and warm from the alcohol, but you were lively, animated and happy.

It made him happy, seeing you so mirthful around him, being able to let loose from your stricter atmosphere at Ma's cafe. Your tense shoulders were looser, your back relaxed from its ramrod-straight position and your voice felt more invigorated. The alcohol might've played a part, running through your system and making you bolder.

The first time always played well, just as he imagined, and the thing that solidified everything was your parting words: "Next time's on me, Simon!"

You drank together every week, from friends to drinking buddies, there was nothing more intimate than that, to trust someone with your drunk self and your loose tongue, spewing words and thoughts the second they crossed your mind.

That boosted his confidence, the feeling that he could confess, and tell you his deepest and darkest thoughts and wants. You'd know what kind of man he was, broken and messily put together, like a DIY project made by a child gone wrong. He had sharp edges and missing pieces, a cracked personality and dangerous thoughts. He was a SAS soldier after all, once you become one, you see some twisted shit.

Like the week before, you walked out together, your legs shaky but still able to walk home, accompanied by Ghost. He helped you to your apartment, his broad shadow looming over the door, silent as always. When your shaky hands were able to unlock the door, turning the knob and opening the door, you turned around to bid your drinking buddy good night.

Lips parting to say the words, until he cut you off, his chapped lips met yours. His gloved hands caressed your cheek, thumb rubbing under your wide eyes as he held you in place. His lips were warm and plump, but chapped, a scar running over it.

His eyes were closed, lips on you for a few seconds longer until he pulled away, a dazed look in his eyes. While he expected a reaction from you, he hadn't envisioned shock and sadness, one that made his gut plummet. He winced at your expression, unable to understand what he did wrong. He thought you loved him.

"I- Simon, I- I can't, I'm sorry," you hushed out sadly, head turned down to stare at your feet. You were unwilling to gaze into his disappointed - probably heartbroken - eyes.

"Why?" He rasped, voice hoarse as if he hid cried for hours, or was on the brink of tearing up.

"I just can't, Simon," you persisted, feeling much more sober than the last few minutes. His surprise had severed you up - willingly or unwillingly. "I don't mind staying friends, but I can't get too attached. I won't be here much longer."

" 'Cause you're not from here?" He scoffed, but it didn't hold any resentment or irritation, simply sorrow and distress. " 'Cause you're from another world?"

You whipped your head to stare at him, your mouth agape and fearful shock glazed over your eyes. How could he have possibly known? While your identity was fabricated work, you know how to make a believable fake ID, Genji's knowledge helped you. You stepped back, hand reaching for your door knob, unsure of what Simon would do to you now that the secret was out.

He turned and ambled out, shoulders slumped slightly without a word to you. His world shattered once again, God seemed hellbent on making his life a misery.

He stopped coming after your "altercation", you felt horrible, but you couldn't let your heart run wild when you know Winston would find a way to fix the portal in a year or two. One had already passed and you couldn't overindulge in this world's pleasures and leave when you got too attached.

Yet, grief at being relieved that he never appeared again clawed at you, he knew you weren't from his world. It was dangerous information, especially in bad hands, but you couldn't do anything about it. This world had different rules and standards, it worked differently and you weren't book-smart like Winston or Torb. You were a simple agent working under Tracer.

You did, however, regret letting Simon leave so abruptly, he was an amazing friend, the perfect drinking buddy and would probably be a caring lover, but couldn't risk it. Even if you wanted to text him, and apologize over and over until Simon would talk to you again, you knew how to respect people's boundaries. If he left so coldly, never passing by, texting or calling told you enough. He needed time to calm down and clear his mind.

You went back and forth between your home and the cafe every night, your original routine - before meeting Simon - felt alien to you. You'd been so used to seeing Simon at the back of the shop, a hot London fog in his hands and crepes on his plate with melting butter. It was foreign to see the spot occupied by another client, or the cold spot in your chest when it was vacant.

You disliked it. You hated it. The cold, the silence, you wanted to see him at least once.

Can we meet? Usual place. was the sudden text you received from Simon during your shift. It was dated today at 5:39.

Without a second thought, you replied, affirming the date and time, tonight, right after your shift on Friday. A weight was lifted from your shoulder, the silence from Simon was broken and he finally reached out to you. Your break to let him calm down had worked it seemed, the let him cool down and clear his mind.

It was late by the time you got to the pub, around nine. You had returned home and fixed up your depressed look for a more lively one, hoping it would make Simon feel better. You caught him at your usual place, head hung low and demeanour shut off from the world around him. You took hesitant steps towards him, he didn't look exactly sober from the number of cups decorating the table, nor did he look drunk, from his sharp, hooded eyes.

"Simon, " you greeted him slowly, nearly flinching when his brown eyes washed over your smaller figure. Chills erupted through the ends of your nerves, fingers twitching at the sudden burst of danger you felt from your friend. You had no reason to be scared, wary of his demeanour, but not scared or hateful. He'd yet to act out violently or malevolently.

He gave a curt nod, emotions bleeding through his eyes. He was a stoic man, but his eyes were extremely emotional, pain, regret, grief, hate and joy were some you'd seen flash in those pretty brown of his.

He had a whole bottle ordered in advance, the cap still tightly screwed onto the bottle's neck. He poured you a cup, of rum straight out of the bottle without ice or any accessories.

Thanking him, you sipped on your drink it felt hot and heady on your tongue, it burned your throat. You hadn't drank since you'd last seen Simon, weeks ago, and you could see - feel - its effect. You coughed slightly but still downed the rest.

"You wanted to see me?" Your question left an odd sensation on your tongue. He hadn't spoken a word since you walked in, always the brooding, silent menace. He stared, fixated on you or something on you, it was perturbed you.

"I wanted to apologize, love."

You missed that low hum in his voice, and the caring way he said you "love". You'd been used to it since most British you knew always called someone they cared for "love" or "dear", loving terms of endearment used publicly. Now, however, you knew it weighted, an undertone to its meaning, a special significance in his heart.

"Didn't mean to jump you like that," he continued, regret painting his rough tone. "It felt right; to me. Guess I was more plastered than I thought."

He was human and alcohol coursed through his system. It made him bold and erratic, he acted out without a second thought. You could forgive him for the influence his bourbon had on him; you were going to forgive him anyway.

Although you felt better with his apology, forgiveness for his sudden move wasn't what you prioritized. You wanted answers. How did he know? Was it a sudden, incomprehensible blurb that he spat in a spike of hate and pain? Or was it conscience wording from his drunk mind?

"Do you remember that night?" You lost your smile, pursed lips and hardened eyes at your questioning - interrogation of him.

"'Course I do."

"Do you remember what you said? About me coming from somewhere else."

He nodded, eyes levelled to stare straight at you, unwilling to hide or lie, he spoke honestly, "Another world, love. Didn't forget."

"How'd you know? I'm not exactly showcasing it to everyone in bright colours. So how?"

"Saw you save that girl, lil babe crying for her mother," his answer was slow and purposeful, giving you what you wanted to hear. He recalled the event that occurred months prior, everything aligned with your own experience. "We don't - can't - have shite like that, too developed and powerful. Nothin' like that's possible in this era. So I figured you weren't from here. "

His reasoning made sense, his wording was careful, and it seemed like he had time to think about it. The time you gave him had helped. You kept your doubts to yourself, questions you had that he probably didn't have the answer to. A way back; a way home; an escape. All things he had no answer to.

So your shoulders relaxed and asked Simon to pour you a second cup, to which he obliged. You drank and smiled, back to the trying times when you just started drinking with him, the unknown and the awkwardness that lingered in the air stung.

You don't remember how many cups you had, or how many bottles you finished. Did you even finish the first one? Did you get halfway through before your vision started blurring and your mind dazed into mumbles of incoherent words? Simon hadn't touched another cup since the world around you blurred, the corners of your eyes turning black and your movement slowed to a slur.

He paid for the drink on his tab, slinging your arm over his shoulder, hand holding your waist as he walked out. You were drunk out of your mind, but something felt different, you don't remember being this inebriated the last time you drank half a bottle of rum. Was there something else in it?

Simon dropped you in the back, buckling you in before he made sure you sat upright. He was close, his neck bare and sweaty, his musk smelled strong and heavy, smoke and gunpowder weighing at the back of your throat. Although your vision was faulty, you could see the tight muscle of his neck and shoulder tense as he worked.

His scent stuck to you as he closed the door and drove home, the air in the car smelling like him. Whatever had drained you, lulled you to sleep, taking comfort in the familiar warmth even if a small part of you started panicking.

He had you, in the basement of his house, soundproof and padlocked from the outside. Any risk was accounted for and any escape plans were foiled prematurely by his quick mind.

Ghost laid you beneath him, on the soft, plush bed he bought and built for you, queen-sized for the times he'd spend cuddling you. He had you splayed, body limp and limbs pliant to his every desire. He admired your sleeping form, how your lace fluttered lightly and your lips perked, thinking on the corners as if you were wincing - a duck face - and your peaceful expression. You were adorable.

Your shirt came off first, pulled over your head and thrown over his shoulders, then your bra. Without his gloves, your skin felt soft, hot to the touch. Kneading your breasts, he held one in each hand and felt the fat. You twitched and mewled faintly when he pinched your nipples, hardened by the cooler air hitting your drunk-induced heat. He kissed them, lips closing around your nipple and sucking loudly. He gave each one the same amount of attention, pulling off with a wet pop.

His fingers trailed the lines of your abdomen, strong and athletic, but not too burly like anyone in the army. He admired your figure, half-naked and unconscious on his bed, in his home. He kissed down your stomach as he took your pants off, sliding leg after leg out, leaving you only in your panties.

You were beautiful: your skin - soft, your hair - silken, your lips - wonderful to kiss, and your eyes - gems. You were breathtaking to look at, a treasure to his eyes solely. You were an unblemished canvas, unmarked by other men - in his mind - by sin, and your scars were trophies, won through difficult times. He wanted to be the one painting you, displaying you prettily for his eyes alone. Pieces of works were kept secret like Michelangelo's love poems and sketches.

His eyes wandered the expanse of your body, groaning when he saw the wet patch, your body had reacted to his caresses, your arousal turning the spot over your cunt darker, wet. He pushed his nose to it, breathing in the tangy musk. His fingers hooked under the string and ripped it off with a harsh tug. You wouldn't need underwear anymore once he was done with you.

Ghost's pupils dilated, wide, blown eyes as it keyed on your slick cunt. He adjusted your legs, moving them over his shoulders to have better access to you. He gave a testing lap, running the flat of his tongue over your rim, prodding your clenching opening and leaving at your pulsating clit.

You tasted delicious, he growled and dove back. Tongue circling your button, sucking loudly, lifting the protective hood to let it swell and throb. He held your hips tightly ad you squirmed and moaned, but you never awoke. The drug he gave you was potent, tested on bigger, stronger military men. It could knock them out, so it would pull a stronger reaction from you.

It weighed on his mind, that he resolved to drugging you and bringing you home to be able to show you just how much he loved you. He'd preferred if you were awake, he wanted your first time together to be wonderful - fantastic - in all ways, but you would've protested, fought him and left him once more. He couldn't risk losing you completely, it hurt.

He had no other choice and felt guilty, but he couldn't let his mind wander when he had you under him, ripe for the taking. He pushed his thoughts away and concentrated on you, his needy girl.

His tongue returned between your leg, cheek nuzzling into your sweating thighs. He alternated between sucking your button, lips enclosing around it, and dipping his tongue into you, groaning anomalistically at your tensing walls. He pushed his forefinger in, joining his ravenous tongue. His nose bumped your clit, jerking you each time.

A second finger joined the first and his tongue left to give attention to your neglected clit, pumping to the third knuckles and curling upwards. You arched off the bed, hips buckling into his open mouth as he stretched you open with a third finger. The sound was lewd and wet, loud in his ears.

His cock twitched, straining against his pants, the fabric tight and inflexible, nearly painful. He wanted to relieve the tightness, that burning ache deep in his guts, but his needs came second to yours.

He flickered his tongue and pushed his fingers deeper, curling and panting against you. You spasmed, legs closing around his head, squeezing him as you came. His fingers eased out slowly to savour the taste of your arousal, mouth covering your fluttering hole and slurping the slick that drizzled down your ass.

He loved how you tasted, sweet and salty, like a healthy, ripe fruit ready to be bitten into, juicy and perfect. He almost lost himself, dazed by your essence and his anguish; if only you'd accepted him early, you would've been awake and conscious of this act, and you'd be able to love and embrace him as he did to you. He wouldn't have to wait so long, in pain and regret, for not wooing you enough. He wouldn't have to feel so guilty.

Snapping from his hazed thinking, he lowered your legs and climbed off the bed to undress. He peeled his hoodie and shirt, which stuck to his skin by sweat, and he dropped his pants once he unbuckled his belt. His cock bobbed, slapping wetly against his navel before it hung heavily between his legs, the head achingly red and swollen. His balls felt heavy, and tight from all the neglect. They were big and full, ready to pump his seed into you.

He cradled you, pulling your legs over his elbows and slotting his hips to yours, his cock over your slit. He moved his hips, slicking his shaft with your juices, groaning at the wet warmth under him. When it felt slick enough, he dipped the tip in, your labia stretching to swallow his uncut head. The sound was downright filthy in his ears, the squelch and your strained moans.

He watched himself inch deeper, sinking into your depths with unrelenting hunger, panting and growling until he bottomed out, his balls sitting snug against your ass. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, nudging it as he rolled his hips, testing how deep he could reach and how strong he could fuck.

He slowly pulled out, hearing the wet noise of his cock slipping out to the tip, and slammed in, his balls slapping the roundness of your ass. He rocked wildly, groaning each time he bottomed out, feeling the heat of your walls clench around him like a vice. Your spasming walls wrenched low moans from him, as often as you whimpered and mewled.

"Fuck- you feel so fuckin' good-" he pushed out through his clenched teeth, his cock twitching when you tightened around him.

Your legs shook, your back arching slightly and your voice keening loudly. He covered your body with his, lips meeting yours in a hungry and possessive kiss, tongue diving into your mouth and committing it to memory. His hand found your clit, thumb rubbing your sensitive nub, urging you towards your end.

Keening, you came, gripping him with a vice. He grunted, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his peak after yours, breathing in your neck with dazed, hooded eyes. He swore, thrusting as deep as he could and came, his seed rushing to fill you.

"Fuck- fuck-" he gasped, rocking a few times into you, riding off his edge until he calmed down.

White globs leaked from your stuffed cunt, rolling down your ass and leaving a trail. His chest rumbled happily, bending down to kiss you slowly, soft and adoring compared to the last. He slid out when he softened, his cum oozing out of your gaping heat, the plug keeping everything in left.

He loved watching you full, oozing of him, asleep and satiated in the bed he bought for you. You were both coated in sweat and cum, hair sticking to your glistening skin. Your dishevelled and panting aroused him, his soft cock jerking upwards, hardening moments after he just came.

"We're not done yet, love."

You felt heavy and warm, a heat - a body - held you tightly, fingers carding through your hair and caressing your back. It smelled like sweat and smoke, a familiar musk. You opened your eyes, seeing a pale, burly chest, Simon's naked chest. You froze, body tensing, shoulders squaring and arms ready to push him back.

"Morning, love," his voice was raspy with sleep, deep and calm as he greeted you, his lips meeting your hairline. "Slept well?"

You frowned, legs moving, jutting out from between his knees as you struggled to free yourself. Your body felt sore, the peak of your discomfort coming from your heat, a pulsating and warm pain. You feared the worst.

When you looked down, you were covered by only a shirt, a big, dark grey t-shirt that smelled like Simon, it reached your knees. You winced, seeing your nakedness and Simon's pants hanging low on his hips, flashing the sharp dip of his navel and his sculpted torso. It left little to imagine, the red blemishes on your neck and shoulders, slightly faded from his careful handling and bruises the size of his fingers around your thighs.

"You-" you coughed before you could day anymore, throat dry and scratchy, alcohol dehydrated people faster.

"Drink," he held you up, back to his chest, arms slipping around you too comfortably to hand you a cup of water, cool and fresh.

He had expected this, he wasn't as delusional as he first seemed, and he was prepared. You took it, gulping it down carefully, counting the seconds - minutes - that would pass until the drug kicked in, if he had diluted any in your water.

He hummed happily, his chest vibrating as he wrapped his arms around you, nosing the collar of your neck, he placed fluttering kisses on your open shoulder. The collar of his shirt slipped from one side, exposing your skin. His teeth grazed you, teasingly nipping you with warm puffs of air.

You gulped, gathering whatever wits you still had after this whole kidnapping situation. Your mind was running miles per second, eyes gleamed over with tensions and tiredness, and your body sore from Simon's perverse affection.

"Where am I?" your voice was small, still raspy from - what you assumed - moaning and mewling.

"Home," he mumbled, latching onto your skin and sucking a dark spot.

Home? It neither meant your flat nor safety. It was *his* home, a prison he built for you. You looked around. You thought it better to get to know the place he decided to keep you captive, to learn and discover its secrets, anything you could use against or for you.

It was like a studio apartment, everything was open apart from the bathroom, it had a small kitchenette with a fridge (probably in case he left for a while, deployed in another country while he kept you here.), a bookshelf filled to the brim with books and a desk pushed to the side. He'd forgone leaving you with a television, a mobile device, a phone or a computer, all were risks of you getting out.

The walls were painted over, bare of windows and stairs lead to a door, locked from both sides. He locked you in his basement, beneath his house and every other neighbour's nose. No one would come to your rescue if you screamed. No one would hear your cries of anguish or your pleas for freedom.

He bit down, teeth pressing onto your skin, denting the scarred flesh with his teeth marks. You yelped, the area hot and painful, his strength leaving an almost skin-deep bleeding, fiery and red. It was irritated and swelled in seconds. He moved from one patch to the other, determined to mark up your shoulder before possibly moving on to the next one.

You squirmed on his lap, trying to free yourself from his restrictive hold. You gripped his hands, digging your blunt nails into his forearms. He scoffed, nuzzling the bites he made, tongue lapping at the bleeding lines.

"Ghost," you gasped, legs kicking and body struggling.

Clicking followed every kick, the distinct sound of metal rattling in a disorderly way. You looked down your leg, catching the cuff around your right ankle, a long chain kept you jailed in the basement. It was long and winding, enough to comfortably walk laps around your new accommodation but too short to reach the door.

You stared at it incredulously, the utter rage and disgust that burned in your gut that he planned to keep you as if you were a glorified pet or some sort of prize he scouted and obtained.

You knew he liked you before, it was a simple and innocent crush, like finding your first one and not knowing how to react. That, and the fact he was a soldier, scarred by time and marked by warfare made him so standoffish. You thought it was simple, but now, it was too late to forget, to not look, to let bygones be bygones.

He was obsessed, not necessarily sane, but not crazy either. He wasn't delusional, by everything he set up as a precaution, but he let his darkness fester, grow and crack the surface of his calm and stoic persona. He was still calm and meticulous, but it was a different kind, storming ideas for your imprisonment and wishes he wanted to make true. Ghost and Simon overlapped, neither good nor evil, he was simply letting the monster rage uncontrolled.

His pent-up emotions drove him to the edge, and your rejection pushed him over, tipping the scale of his sanity. That's how you ended up in your current situation, his hands wandering over your thighs, dipping between them and down to your knees. He still nipped at your skin, biting and pulling the collar down the other shoulder. His teeth sunk into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, warm fingers slipping under his shirt to knead your chest.

You winced, flinching when he plucked your nipples, pulling on them until you let out a pained whine.

"Stop-!" your hands followed his, clamping around his wrists and dragging him out, but he stayed firm, unmoving to your will as he twirled your mounds. "Fucking stop!"

He huffed, hands dropping to your lap. He mumbled into your bitten skin, groaning in complaints about not letting him care for you. His complaints came with hot breaths on your nape, mouthing the back, turning silent and unmoving.

His quietness was familiar to you, his penchant for sifting through his thoughts in utter silence. Then he moved, draping the covers over your body, tucking you in. He stood at your bedside, expression lighting in a gentle smile. Under the dim lighting of the room, he looked like a beautiful angel. A gold halo hovered over his blonde locks, framing his pale skin and warm, brown eyes.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering a few seconds longer as he took in the calming moment. He had you, he had you in his home.

"How about breakfast? Fried eggs and bangers, how's that sound?"

The normalcy of eating breakfast in bed, to wake up and be greeted with a British breakfast made by Simon. He liked the idea of such normality, it was romantic, domestic even. To be able to cook for you and serve you the food he made, he'd eat at the table in the middle of the room, seated opposite from you.

He left before you could give him a piece of your mind, or your reply to his question. Fried eggs, you knew what that was, but *bangers*, what the fuck was that?

The stairs creaked lightly, bending under Simon's weight, but his steps were silent - dangerous. The lock clicked when it was unlocked, and he left you alone, the door locking behind him. Gone was your escape, gone was your freedom, gone was your life with the door locking before you.

Time seemed endless, it went by in a blink or in long, painful moments that left you angry. He hadn't given you a clock, and without anything technological (the microwave didn't have the time, whatever Simon had done, worked. Time never played on the four-letter screen.), you couldn't tell day from night, seconds from minutes and minutes from hours. Time dragged agonizingly slowly, the only clue was Simon kept a pattern: three meals a day, breakfast, dinner and supper before going to bed with his arms wrapped around you.

How long you've stayed here was unknown. You couldn't know and Simon didn't want to tell you. He changed subjects or glared at you until you dropped it or he decided to drop it. You had no link to the outside, no way of knowing if you'd been announced missing or if anyone was worried. Simon had cut all your connections to the world around you, just outside your reach, on the other side of these walls that confined you.

You desperately needed to know about your case, if they knew, if they filed a missing person report if they were searching for you. It pained you to be ignorant of everything but your small world, the things that happened in your small room. Everything you knew was Simon.

His horribly, soothing words in his deep voice, speaking into your ear or your hair, whispering his dreams and his hopes, his love and his adoration. His wandering hands, raking the tension from your shoulders, the knots in your back, your worry from your eyes and lips, and the pleasure - forced - he brought upon you.

Entertainment was brought through him, or through the books he left for you, most were erudite, both old and new novels. Bram Stoker's Dracula, The Silence of the Lambs and The Heart of Darkness were a few of the novels you'd caught on the bookshelf.

He also fed you. Most days, he'd stay until it was time to eat, he would leave - sometimes half an hour or a whole hour, it ranged between depending on the meal - and come back with warm plates. They always smelled good and they tasted better.

It surprised you how skilled he was in cocking, as he was in infiltration, sniping, abducting and killing. Perhaps he took the time apart from you to forge his plan, to learn to cook and to care.

You ate, slowly and contemplatively. He stared at you eat, always making sure you took the first bites before digging into his own plate. It weighed heavy in your gut, like a reluctant gift you were bestowed, and Simon made sure you ate everything.

You felt dazed, gone, after eating, as if a cloud washed over your mind that made you slower, and sluggish with everything you did. The food was drugged, you were aware of that when you first felt lethargic. It made you less testy, less bratty as Simon grumbled, you were more pliant to his whims and easier to move when you tried fighting him.

Though it eased the nausea that wracked your body in the mornings, the sudden discomfort in your abdomen and the heaviness that the ache gave. You rarely needed to move from the bed if the urge to vomit came up, Simon kept pills for that. If you did, he'd comfort you, holding your hair back as the content of your stomach surged upwards.

Your time spent with Simon was time spent organizing your thoughts, Winston was smart, engineering-wise, he was amazing. Then there was Mercy with her medical breakthrough and Torb with his ingeniously brilliant machines. If they came together, found what went wrong with the portal you went through.

Trace would be so worried if she wasn't already dead worried. She was a caring and responsible mentor, taking you in before and after the fall of Overwatch. Nearly twelve years under her and this was the first mishap. You spent nearly two years in Simon's world - you counted the time your could count, the days you spent working and enjoying life as much as you could in a different place - and your heart never stopped missing your family.

You missed Jack - Soldier: 76 - when he would openly laugh, and Gabriel, when he was still the man he was. You missed Tracer's fussing, blinking around with so much energy, and Reinhardt's proud standard when he loomed over his teammates with his Barrier Field. You missed them horribly, they were the glue that kept you hoping for freedom.

It happened when you nearly conceded to Simon's whims, bending to his will and words, letting his hands wander your body and feeling pleasure - genuine. His confessions were parroted, and his I love youwas returned.

You ate less, however, the lump in your gut grew by the days, weighing heavier and heavier. You had weird cravings, followed by nausea most mornings, gripping the toilet bowl with your head hung low. Simon held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back, bemoaning about your pains and cramps.

He left a few times during your period of captivity, vanishing for long periods - usually a week or two - and had you manage everything on your own. He had cameras set up, watching your every move, connected to whatever device he decided to watch you.

He was deployed a week ago, his steps never walking to the door during the week, but now, you could hear his booming steps around the house. They were loud and intentional. Dread always filled your body when you learned he came back, he was clingy, handsy and obsessive when he came back, growling that he would burn down the world if couldn't have you; or that he was thinking about you - constantly - and that the video feed on his phone was never enough.

You picked up on his pace, hurried and panicked. They stomped around the house in search of something before it stopped at your door. Your ears perked on the clicking of the lock, straining to listen to his heaving breaths.

Crack

You jerked forward. Something behind you cracked, the loud cracking filled the air as you turned. A blue swirl cracked the shift in reality, like glass fracturing and breaking into pieces, it glowed with every line. It pulsed calmly, the swirls capturing your attention. You felt drawn to it, your hands twitching with the urge to touch it, to let your fingers swim in the infinite pool.

"(Name), are you there?" a voice called from the other side, small and feminine. It was dripping with worry and exhaustion. "Luv, are you there?" she cried a second time, a hand emerging from the portal.

You knew the voice, the warm, familiar voice that called out to you with love and compassion. A friend. A mentor. A family.

You reached out to it, hand inches from hers. Then the door to your cage burst open, his screams echoing in the basement. He hurried down the stairs as fast as he could, mask still on his face as he reached for you. His gloved fingers grasped the air for you, rushing towards you with immense worry and fear in his eyes.

Mere seconds behind you, his fingers grazed your back as you fell into the waiting arms of your mentor. He was too late, he fell on the vacant bed, watching the portal close behind you. He clutched the bending, the place you sat moments ago. It was still warm, your heat and smell still mixed into your sheets.

He spun lies about your absence, about your sudden disappearance from his world. You moved away after your breakup, you distanced yourself from him to make the move easier on your heart and his. The TF had accepted the excuse, solemnly nodding about your leave and wishing they could have said farewell to a good friend.

They moved on with life, still smiling nostalgically when you were brought up, but Ghost was left heartbroken. He knew something was wrong that day, the itch in his brain about something happening at home. That's why he was in such a hurry, in a panicked frenzy to get home - to get to you. He was too late though, seeing you being pulled into a portal. Dooming was the effect on him; devastation was the pain in his heart; shattering was the sorrow of his soul.

He poured everything into keeping you, only to lose you. Now, he poured every second of his life into work, never letting his mind wander to the bump on your stomach or the subtle relinquishment in your actions to him.

He was deader than dead, colder and more stoic than before. They saw the change, they understood, but never blamed you. Everyone had fallouts, Simon just had more than the rest of the world. That's why he played Ghost more often than before, building his walls higher and his appearance darker.

Yet somehow, Soap was enthusiastic enough to rope him into playing games on his console (he used to play more before finding time between deployments to jump into a match with the others). Overwatch 2, an evolution of the first made better. Soap promised it was good. His spiel about the characters having a profound background and the gameplay being fun. Ghost was doubtful, he and Soap didn't have the same definition of fun, they were associated with different things.

He liked Soap, though, so he humoured his sergeant. He downloaded it on his console, watching the white line charge until it became playable. Soap had mentioned a few names: Genji, Sombra, Reaper and Zenyatta, he even joked about Reaper resembling him, the skull mask and the dark drapes. He'd also gushed - like an over-enthusiastic gamer - about a new character, a woman, the sole student of this Tracer.

He scoured through the lists of players, eyes skimming over the faces before he spotted a familiar one. It was more cartoonish, drawn in gentle lines and beautiful shades. Your face, it was your beautiful face. He nearly dropped his controller, hands shaking and body heavy.

Was it guilt that washed over him? Was it pain that washed over him? Was it sorrow and melancholy that washed over him? Or was it his world that came crashing down on his shoulders?

The world dulled, his breath became stagnant and shallow as he stared at your hero. You were standing proud and fearless, guns held in your hands with a bright smile. He watched you emote, your character moving as it was coded. He scrolled through your skills and perks, some he remembered you use. You blinked and recalled, moving back and forth between time and space, breaking the fragile shift in the world.

Soap was right about the new hero, you were interesting and lovely. In a flurry of emotions, he opened up your biography - or a snippet of your backstory. Every word bled his heart, every act and every situation wracked his body with sadness. The more he read, the more his tears threatened to fall.

You kept your - his - child, a beautiful kid with his blonde hair and your eyes, a round, yet sharper face like his. You kept him, you hadn't aborted the child. You gave birth and he wasn't there. You took care of your kid and he wasn't there. You watched him grow and he wasn't there.

He cried, body closing on itself. His shoulders shook, his vision blurred and his face streaked with tears. A broken sob broke through his throat, restricted and pained with waves of emotion, deep and harrowing sadness of his loss.

"I miss you, love," he rasped, his fingers gripping his hair, nearly ripping out the seams. "I miss you."

[dorayakichan]

Jealous Windbreaker Characters Headcanon

When they see you talking with someone who is clearly flirting with you.

Characters mentioned: Jay, Vinny, Owen, and Joker. x fem! reader

Jay

He doesn’t show it. 

He acts as if everything is fine in the beginning because he does trust you. After all, having been able to break through the barrier of the eunuch speaks for itself.

Yet, if the other person keeps approaching you and flirting with you, that’s when he will get really serious. And no not serious as in he will come up to you two while talking and do the whole protective boyfriend act. Not at all.

He will wait for you to finish the conversation, come back to him, and then he will hold you by your hand glaring at the person who approached you and taking you away. He would also be by your side no matter what if he ever saw that person approach you again.

Jay is a man of few words, but with his actions, he can still show you how he feels. 

If that person keeps constantly annoying you, literally making you feel uncomfortable, that's when he will intervene and protect his girl.

To sum it up, he won’t show it but if you notice these small gestures you will be able to understand that he in fact cares quite a lot.

Vinny

It certainly depends on what kind of person the one trying to flirt with you is. If they are a street thug or just a random plain person in the street. 

Vinny would come behind you throwing daggers at the person. He wouldn’t talk but his tall well-built body and facial expression would be enough to make anyone pee their pants and run off leaving you in the middle of the conversation.

On the other hand, if that person looked rich or kind of important that’s where Vinny’s insecurities would show. 

He would again be behind you with a stern expression on his face but this time there would be no confidence in him. 

And the more your conversation got prolonged the more he would feel like he maybe wasn’t a good fit for you. Every possible reason why you are better off without him would run through his mind and in the end, if that person left you would be facing an extremely annoyed Vinny who would stay silent and say words to try and push you away for your own good. 

Yet, he would totally regret it and keep thinking about how he treated you, still, he would have no courage to come up and tell you that. 

On the other hand, if he saw that you were uncomfortable or if you told him that you didn’t like how that person approached you and was talking to you he would regain some kind of confidence and next time wrap his hand around your waist in a protective manner if the person approached you again.

Owen

Somebody approaching you? No no my dear nobody would be approaching just you, they would be approaching you and Owen both if they so badly wanted to try. 

How could you even imagine Owen leaving your side even for just a second anyway. The guy would be glaring and insulting the person who approached you right in their face. 

To add more insult to it he would grab you by your shoulder and pull you away, no matter who that person is, nobody flirts with his girl right under his nose. 

If on the other hand, Owen was not there, don’t worry a member of the Light Cavalry would be, maybe some meters away, but they would always be on the lookout for any kind of danger after Owen's relentless begging to not let you alone. 

If Owen left you for some minutes and came back seeing somebody trying to flirt with you and you smiling at them or even casually talking kindly to them, he would be pissed. 

After glaring at the person, he would cling to you, wrap an arm around your waist, pull you closer, kiss you on the forehead in front of them, and even go as far as grabbing your hand and kissing it while staring down at the person in front of him. 

After that, he would constantly hug you, and lean on you, giving you a puppy look and asking why you smiled at the person or talked with them, who they were, and if they were important to you.

No matter your answer he would have that sad puppy look on his face all the time after that. 

The best way to proceed with this guy is to give him a kiss out of nowhere or take him by surprise with something that he likes so he would forget about the incident.

Joker

He is a very jealous type.

If he sees someone flirting with you, he is not going to let that pass. He will wait for you to finish talking with them, send you home, and then smash their face if they are a guy in the back of an alley. 

Nobody approaches his girl or dares to flirt with her.

He won’t be telling you any of that though, he will act as if everything is okay and he doesn’t care about the other person. But you will be able to notice the way he harshly grabs onto the chair he is sitting on. Or how his whole mood will change into a gloomy one.

If you ask why he is acting that way he won't tell you the truth and act as if everything it’s fine.

Worse if someone is flirting with you and he sees that you are actually enjoying the conversation. That person might end up half-dead at the door of the hospital the next day.

After that, he will be all petty, and not respond to anything you ask or say. Will look away, and this time if you ask him what’s wrong he will just give you the silent treatment. 

It’s not because he is petty about you talking with other guys, it's because he, like Vinny, feels that he is not good enough for you and you deserve more than he has to offer. 

This attitude of his won’t last long anyway. As soon as he sees that he has upset you, he will go to the underground fighting club. He won’t meet you for a week working hard day and night making money so he can buy something for you.

When he comes with his gift he will wait for you at your front door and if you don’t go out he might sleep there the whole night clutching tightly onto the present he has for you.

How can you even think of being mad at him after that? You will forgive him and try to talk it out so there won’t be a next time.

[kitsuga]

Lean In. {Kaeya x Reader}

Description:  

A fic where Kaeya teases reader and they decide to “fight” back. 

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Tags: fluff, kissing, flirting, part of me feels like kaeya is ooc but im cutting myself some slack bc it was my first time writing him LKJSDFH, reader is NOT mc/lumine/aether!, not beta'd, not edited, gender neutral reader, genshin impact x reader, kaeya x reader, genshin impact, kaeya alberich

Word Count: 730

A/N: Written on: April 2, 2021 

Feels a bit ooc because I cant get the sweet spot of his teasing but writing this made my heart JUMP so that’s good enough for me to post it LMAO kaeya hand in marriage challenge thanks 

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The Cavalry Captain was always a tease. It wasn’t always with bad intentions or to cause a reaction from them, but more often than not, to their dismay, it was. This was one of those instances where they felt it was a grey area; Kaeya was hard to read in general, and even harder to read if he’s being genuine or bluffing. His honeyed words and sly smile caused (Y/n) to squint at him, brushing off the hand he had on their shoulder. 

“Come on now, (Y/n), don’t be shy.” 

“I’m not being shy, and I’m not giving you anything to hold against me.” 

“Hold against you? Now, why would I do that?” 

“You aren’t fooling anyone, Kaeya.” They looked out towards the town, leaning on their arms against the railing in front of them. “I can see right through you. Everything you do makes sure you have something to gain from it.” 

“Is that right?”  

“Don’t be so smug, you know it’s right.” 

“Oh, how you wound me so.” He joined them on leaning against the railing on one elbow, his cheek resting upon the back of his hand.  

(Y/n) ignored his comment and continued looking over the town in front of them. Bundles of people had bustled in front of the taverns and a few stragglers were making their way to or from the same places. The lights around were soft, faint, just a calm flicker only shadowed by the rogue dandelion seed among the equally as soft breeze. It was a quiet night, with not much to do, so they wondered why Kaeya was even bothering to... well, bother them. What did he want? Just to tease them? To annoy them?  

They started to bite the inside of their cheek, involuntarily growing warm under the periwinkle stare that focused on every little move of theirs. With an exasperated sigh and eyebrows laced together, they closed their eyes to avoid the look they knew he would give them. 

“Stop smiling at me like that.” 

“Hm?” 

“If you keep smiling at me like that... nevermind.” 

“Oh no, (Y/n),” Kaeya leaned in closer towards them, his smile now turning to a smirk, “please, continue. What will happen?” 

(Y/n) shook their head, opening their eyes only to shoot him a sideways glare. They ignored the fact he had slowly started to move closer to them, and figured he was still just trying to get a rise out of them. They stuck their lip out in a pout, huffing at the realization that he’d simply keep bugging them, which was normally unlike the man to do so. Why was he so invested in this exchange of theirs? They turned their face to him, ready to give him some half-assed answer—a taste of his own medicine—but stopped short once their eyes met the longing expression in his. 

The air between them felt still, though his eye flickered between theirs and their lips. (Y/n) was dumbstruck, unsure of what their next move should be. Their heart was racing and they were positive he could hear it with just how close he had been. Kaeya looked genuine, for once, and very vulnerable compared to his normal stature. Mindlessly, his tongue flicked over his own lips before his very faint voice filled the air. 

“Show me what will happen.” 

Without a second thought, (Y/n) closed the gap between them, turning his at first gentle kiss into something with more power, more desperation behind it. They could feel him smile during it, and practically feel the chuckle he held back. Kaeya kept his kiss gentle, moving to rest his hand at the base of their head to keep them with him. They took a moment to simply look at each other once they parted; (Y/n) felt a rush of emotions as the corners of his lips turned up to his signature smirk. With one hand still holding their head, the other moved to hold the small of their back and bring them flush against him. They could feel that they were in for a long night of teasing as the words left his mouth, and simply sighed in resignation at the fact that they had fallen for the man. 

“You're right, I do make sure I have something to gain.” His smirk fell once again to a genuine smile, “I guess this time, it’s you.” 

[pastaxandria]

The Red Thread: Chapter 161

The Library of Pastaxandria has recorded for its archives: Chapter 161 of The Red Thread.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

With it came a sound, one only you seemed to hear. It was a sound you’d never forgotten, one you’d had the misfortune of hearing just once during a terrifying, panicked drive down a rural highway in Texas: a steadily building roar, one you could feel resonating inside your chest; the crackling pop and snap of dry trees and buildings catching light beneath a sudden rising heat and floating embers; the wild gusting of twisting winds heavy with smoke and charred ash that fell like flakes of snow onto cracked streets. The cavalry was coming, and oh, was that cavalry furious. Or: in which 5 muggers have a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Wordcount: 5.6k

Warnings for this chapter: blood, canon-typical violence, lil bit of implied gore, scary sexy grr grr feral devil

Read me on AO3 where you can find Matt currently beating the shit out of bad people